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REBELS    OF    THE 
NEW    SOUTH 


BY 

WALTER  MARION  RAYMOND 

ILLUSTRATIONS    BY    PERCY   BERTRAM    BALL 


CHICAGO 

CHARLES  H.  KERR  &  COMPANY 

1905 


Copyright  1904 
By  CHARLES  H.  KERR  &  COMPANY 


TO   MY   BELOVED  COMRADE 

PERCY  BERTRAM  BALL 


^r^xo^; 


O  magnet  South!    O  glistening,  perfumed  South!     My  South! 

0  quick  mettle,  rich  blood,  impulse  and  love!    Good  and  evil! 

O  all  dear  to  me! 

Come,  I  will  make  the  continent  indissoluble; 

1  will  make  the  most  splendid  race  the  sun  ever  yet  shone 

upon; 
I  will  make  divine  magnetic  lands. 

With  the  love  of  comra,de*r. 

With  the  life-long  love  of  comrades. 

I  will  plant  companionship  thick  as  trees  along  all  the  rivers 
of  America,  and  along  the  shores  of  the  great  lakes, 
and  all  over  the  prairies; 
I  will  make  inseparable  cities,  with  their  arms   about  each 
other's  necks; 

By  the  love  of  comrades, 

By  the  manly  love  of  comrades. 

Walt    Whitman. 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 


CHAPTER  I. 


The  guineas  had  flown  to  rest  in  the  tree  they 
loved,  an  old  sweetgum  green  with  mistletoe  toward 
its  crest.  The  turkeys  flitted  fretfully  among  the 
boughs  of  the  aspen  beside  the  icehouse.  The  last 
chicken  had  sleepily  groped  its  way  into  the  hennery. 

Cindie  turned  from  watching  her  feathered 
charges  and  swept  the  sunless  heavens  with  a  pro- 
phetic eye. 

"Dis  is  gwine  be  a  white  Chris'mas,  or  I  dunno 
how  to  unriddle  de  elements,"  she  observed.  "Dar 
now!  Dar  now  !"  she  added,  excitedly.  "What  I  tole 
you?    It's  snowin' now !   Fo' Gawd,  it  is  !" 

From  the  crumbling  cabin  of  old  Tom  Tait,  a  dollar- 
less  degenerate  living  down  at  the  cross-roads,  came 
the  dismal  baying  of  a  hound,  accentuating  the  gloom 
of  the  December  evening. 

'T  wonder  whar  dat  skinny,  no-count  whjte  devil 
gwine  play  his  fiddle  to-night?"  the  old  woman  asked 
herself.  "He  gwine  fiddle  somewhars,  I  know! 
What?  Christmas  Eve,  and  ole  Tom  Tait  not  at  some 
breakdown  wid  dat  everlastin'  fiddle  of  hisn !  Dat's 
all  he  fit  for,  anyways,  fiddlin'  and  drinkin'  whisky! 
I  wonder  what  most  folks  was  made  for  ?  Dey  suttiny 
don't  'tribute  nuffin  to  de  glory  of  Gawd.  Yander 
come  de  chile  nowM  Yander  come  dat  po'  chile! 
Ain't  dis  nigger  glad?" 

"Dat  po'  chile"  was  a  stalwart  man  v.^ho  had  seen 


8  REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

the  trees  unleaf  five  and  twenty  times.  But  Doctor 
Custis  would  always  be  a  child  in  the  eyes  of  his 
adoring  mammy. 

"I  wonder  whar  dat  boy  'Relius  is?"  grunted  the 
old  woman.  "Don't  he  know  he  oughts  to  be  round 
to  tend  to  dat  boss?  I  'clar'  'fo'  Gawd  if  dat  yaller 
rascal  earns  de  salt  in  his  bread.  Yander  he  come 
now,  an'  runnin'  like  he  break  his  ole  neck.  Chris'mas 
mc^s'  heah — dal's  what  means  all  dat  sudden  nimble- 
ness.  Wonder  he  don't  jump  over  de  moon,  he  so  sin- 
ful frisky  all  asudden.  I  does  'spise  a  'ceitful  nigger — 
yes,  Lawd,  wussen  pizen.  But  he  jes'  like  all  dem  Per- 
kins niggers.  I  ain't  never  untangle  de  riddle  of  dat 
gal  of  mine  takin'  up  wid  dat  bow-legged,  yaller  nig- 
ger Pete  Perkins.  He  couldn't  cot  me  wid  de  little 
feed  whar  he  flung  out  to  cot  Puss  Octavie  wid.  But 
a  passel  of  women  folks,  all  you  got  do  to  cot  'em  is 
to  say  'Coochie,  coochie !'  and  dey  run  in  de  man's 
arms.  You  don't  even  have  to  sprinkle  no  feed  for 
'em.     Dey  come  glad  'nough  widout  it." 

The  old  negress  walked  to  the  hearth,  threw  a  cou- 
ple of  logs  upon  the  fire,  and,  turning  her  back  to  the 
blaze,  stood  awaiting  her  master. 

"Well,  mammy,"  he  said,  entering  the  room  at 
length,  "Uncle  William's  sufferings  are  over." 

"He  gone  den?    Po'  ole  soul!" 

"Plappy  old  soul!  But  it  will  be  hard  to  realize 
for  some  time  that  honest  old  William  Waller  is  with 
us  no  more.  Ah,  me!"  looking  gloomily  into  the  fire. 
"One  by  one,  they  go — the  old  friends.  Soon  they  will 
all  be  gone,  and  I  shall  be  left  alone." 

Cindie's  apron  went  to  her  eyes. 

"Forgive  me,  mammy,"  said  the  Doctor,  laying  his 
hand  on  her  arm.  "I  forgot  myself.  There  now ! 
Don't  cry!  Let  us  be  cheerful  if  Uncle  William  is 
gone,  even  if  Christmas  isn't  what  it  used  to  be  when 
father  and  mother  were  with  us." 

Fie  dived  his  hand  into  his  pocket  and  brought 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH  9 

forth  some  money.  He  never  carried  a  pocket-book, 
he  thought  so  httle  of  the  stuff  over  which  men  go 
mad. 

'Tt  may  be  previous  of  me  to  give  you  your 
Christmas  present  tonight,"  he  said,  "but  I'll  do  it, 
anyhow.  Here  is  a  little  money,"  handing  her  a  ten- 
dollar  note.  "I  wish  it  were  more,  but  it  is  the  best 
I  can  do.  You  know  how  scarce  money  is,  how  hard 
it  is  to  collect.  I  can't  ask  for  it,  even  of  those  able  to 
pay.  And  I  feel  ashamed  to  accept  the  little  offered 
me,  as  if  I  were  robbing  somebody,  as  if  I  hadn't  earned 
the  money." 

"Go  'long,  chile.  You  robbin'  anybody!  Dat 
'nough  to  make  a  chicken  laugh,  dat  sort  of  talk  is ! 
It's  udder  folks  whar  oughts  to  be  'shamed,  not  you. 
It's  udder  folks  whar  do  de  robbin',  it's  dem  whar  rob 
you.    Taint  you !" 

The  old  woman  looked  at  the  money  given  her, 
fingering  it  appreciatively.  Then  her  eyes  gratefully, 
worshipfully  sought  the  eyes  of  her  handsome  young 
master. 

"Mammy  can't  tell  you,  honey,  how  'bleeged  she 
is  for  dis,"  she  said,  unsteadily. 

"Don't  speak  of  it.  Any  mail  ?"  at  the  same  time 
walking  to  his  desk  and  taking  up  a  batch  of  letters 
which  Aurelius  had  brought  from  the  postoffice  an 
hour  before. 

"Richmond,  Va. !"  he  exclaimed,  reading  the  post- 
mark on  an  envelope  addressed  to  him  in  a  feminine 
hand.  "Why,"  with  a  start,  "it  is  from  Dorothy !  Yes, 
yes ;  there's  no  mistaking  that  hand.  At  last !  At  last 
she  has  written !  Poor  little  thing !  What  can  have 
happened?    Does  she  need  me  at  last?" 

He  awkwardly  broke  the  seal  in  his  feverish  de- 
side  to  get  at  the  contents : 

Richmond,  Va.,  December  21,  18 — . 

My  Best  Friend  on  Earth — Two  years  and  a 
half  ago  to-night  I  dropped  out  of  sight — fled  from 


10  '   REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

Charlottesville,  an  outcast.  It  was  my  wish — it  is  my 
wish  now — that  I  be  as  one  dead  to  all  whom  I  used  to 
know.  But  the  welfare  of  my  child  conflicts  with  that 
wish,  and  I  break  the  silence  on  his  account.  The  lit- 
tle fellow — Pierre  Custis  Christian  is  his  name — will 
be  two  years  old  on  Christmas  Day.  As  yet  he  knows 
nothing  of  sin  and  its  bitter  consequences.  As  yet  he 
looks  up  to  his  abandoned  mother  as  if  she  were  an 
angel.  But  the  years  pass  swiftly,  and  soon — too  soon 
— he  must  come  to  a  knowledge  of  it  all — learn  what 
he  is,  learn  what  I  am.  And  I  feel  as  if  I  could  not 
face  the  boy  when  that  day  comes.  I  fear  he  might 
loathe  me,  and  righteously  so,  and  I  couldn't  bear  it. 
Doctor ;  I  couldn't  bear  it.  I  have  thought  it  all  over 
until  I  am  nearly  insane,  and  I  see  no  way  out  of  it  save 
to  §end  him  from  me.  He  must  go  into  another  en- 
vironment, and  a  wholesome  one.  He  must  grow  up 
ignorant  of  his  shame,  a  stranger  to  his  mother. 
Though  it  kill  me,  I  must  make  the  sacrifice  for  his 
sake.  There  are  childless  women — many  of  them — 
who  would  rejoice  to  possess  the  boy  for  his  beauty 
alone,  for  no  more  beautiful  child  was  ever  born.  But 
I  don't  want  him  brought  up  among  conventional 
shams ;  I  don't  want  him  to  breathe  the  atmosphere 
of  "tubercular  goodness,"  to  absorb  current  ideas  of 
right  and  wrong.  He  wouldn't  hesitate,  then,  to  re- 
peat his  father's  crime,  to  duplicate  the  misery  that 
Frederick  Huntington  has  wrought.  But  why  worry 
over  a  danger  that  doesn't  confront  the  boy?  There  is 
one  who  will  take  him  to  his  heart  and  his  home — a 
man  who  is  all  love,  all  unselfishness ;  a  man  who  loves 
truth  and  justice  as  other  men  love  gold  and  power. 
I  want  you.  Doctor,  to  have  my  boy ;  I  want  you  to 
bring  him  up — to  love  him,  to  mould  him.  Then  he 
will  jjecome  a  man  in  whom  God  will  delight. 

Ah!  how  I  misjudged  you  in  the  old  days!  I 
thought  you  cold.  I  was  mean  enough  even  to  think 
you  jealous  of  me,  because  I  had  come  between  you 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH     ii 

and  your  best  beloved  friend.  And  when  I  had  fallen 
and  the  author  of  my  shame  left  me  to  bear  it  all 
alone,  I  expected  you  to  cast  the  first  stone  because  you 
had  loved  him  so.  But  no !  I  had  wronged  you.  It 
was  then  that  your  divine  sense  of  justice  asserted  it- 
self, causing-  you  to  turn  from  the  one  you  had  loved 
as  your  life  to  his  friendless  victim.  It  was  then  that 
you  showed  the  God  in  you,  the  infinite  tenderness  that 
was  yours.  You  were  so  moved  with  compassion  that 
you  would  have  covered  my  weakness  with  your 
strength,  my  stain  with  your  whiteness.  You  would 
have  given  your  name  to  my  child,  then  unborn,  and 
the  right  to  call  you  father.  Incomparable  magnanim- 
ity !  I  could  never  have  accepted  the  sacrifice  of  you, 
but  I  shall  always  rejoice  that  you  offered  it.  The 
memory  of  it  alone  has  kept  burning  my  faith  in  God 
and  goodness.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  I  want  my  child 
to  live  in  your  presence  ? 

My  friend,  Mr.  Nelson,  who  is  going  to  spend  the 
holidays  in  Lynchburg,  will  take  Custis  to  you  on  his 
way  up  Christmas  Eve.  They  will  go  on  the  evening 
train.  I  suffer  so  with  my  heart  of  late,  Doctor,  that 
I  can't  rest  until  I  know  the  child  is  with  you.  Then 
death  may  come  whenever  it  wishes.  I  shall  not  care, 
I  am  so  tired  of  it  all. 

Dorothy  Christian. 

Cindie  wondered  what  the  contents  of  the  letter 
were  to  have  moved  Dr.  Custis  so  deeply. 

"De  same  old  tale,"  she  thought.  "Somebody  in 
a  tight  hole  done  writ  to  him  for  money  or  he'p  some- 
ways,  and,  like  he  always  is,  he  all  worked  up  'bout  it. 
Dat's  what  'tis."  She  gave  the  fire  a  vigorous  poke 
by  way  of  emphasizing  her  conclusion  in  the  mat- 
ter. "If  'taint  one  pusson  'tis  anudder  tryin'  to  git 
some'n  outen  him.  I  dunno  how  it  gwine  to  eend  if 
he  keep  on  ginnin'  way  and  lendin'  out  all  he  got. 
What  gwine  to  come  of  de  chile  arter  awhile?  Go  to 
de  po'  house,  I  reckon.    Whar  else  he  gwine  when  all 


12    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

he  got  done  gone?  Folks  make  like  it  mout}'  hard  to 
love  udder  folks  de  same  what  dey  love  demsevs,  but 
he  don't  find  nufifin  'tall  hard  'bout  it.  It's  easy-like 
for  dat  chile  to  love  udder  folks  and  do  for  'em  as  for 
a  hog  to  wallow  or  an  ole  ha'r  to  run.  And  he  don't 
stop  dar  whar  he  tole  to  stop.  He  go  beyand  de  spot. 
He  love  his  neighbor  a  sight  mo'n  he  love  hissef. 
Dat's  what  he  do.  I  ain't  never  seed  nobody  like 
him  sense  Gawd  made  me." 

Here  Dr.  Custis  raised  his  eyes  from  the  letter, 
having  read  it  twice. 

"Mammy,"  he  said,  'T  have  a  Christmas  present 
on  the  way." 
^        The  old  woman  grunted. 

"I  lay  you  got  a  whole  passel  on  de  way,"  she 
said. 

"But    this    present    isn't    like    those    one    usually 
gets.     I  have  never  received  one  like  it  before." 
I        He  leaned  mysteriously  toward  her. 
'         "Mammy,"  lowering  his  voice  almost  to  a  whisper, 
"it  is  a  baby — a  beautiful  boy  baby." 

"A  baby !"  cried  Cindie,  aghast.  "Jesus,  come 
down,  will  you?  What  de  world  comin'  to  in  dese 
latter  days?  A  baby?  Whose  baby  is  it?  'Taint — 
'taint  yourn?" 

"No,  it  isn't  mine,"  said  the  physician,  blushing. 
Then,  growing  suddenly  bold,  he  exclaimed:  "Yes, 
it  is  mine — mine  to  love  and  to  care  for,  and  to  die 
for,  if  need  be !  I  am  not  the  little  one's  father  after 
the  flesh,  but  I  intend  to  be  a  father  to  him." 

"A  baby !  a  baby !"  repeated  the  negress. 
"Marse  Pierre,  what  in  de  name  of  Gawd  is  you 
gwine  to  do  wid  a  baby?  Now,  if  it  was  yourn,  I'd 
keep  my  mouth  shet  tight.  But  I  don't  hold  wid  dis 
takin'  up  wid  udder  folks'  chillen.  Dey  never  gin 
you  no  thanks  for  it." 

Suddenly  she  broke  into  loud  laughter. 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH     13 

"What's  the  matter,  mammy?  Why  this  sudden 
mirth  ?" 

"  'Tis  so  funny,  honey — you  takin'  a  baby  to 
bring  up?  I  'bleeged  to  laugh,  mammy  is.  What  de 
folks  round  heah  gwine  to  say?" 

"I  don't  care  what  in  the  devil  they  say." 

"What  you  gwine  to  do  wid  de  chile,  honey?  I 
knows  one  thing:  You  gwine  to  spile  dat  chile  till  he 
rotten." 

"Don't  you  talk  of  my  spoiling  children !  That's 
a  game  at  which  nobody  can  beat  you.  That  boy 
will  not  have  been  here  twenty-four  hours  before 
you  will  be  his  abject  slave.     Mark  my  words !" 

He  paused. 

"Mammy,"  he  went  on,  "you  know  I  have  al- 
ways confided  in  you  as  I  did  in  mother." 

"You  kin  trus'  me,  honey ;  you  know  dat.  Ain't 
nobody  on  Gawd's  earth  ever  gwine  git  outen  dis 
nigger  what  you  don't  want  'em  to  know." 

"I  believe  that." 

He  looked  at  the  letter,  then  up  at  Cindie. 

"The  little  stranger  to  arrive  here  tonight,"  he 
began,  "came  into  the  world  unwelcomed,  at  least  by 
his  father.  There  was  no  rejoicing  at  the  little  one's 
birth — no  exchange  of  telegrams,  no  congratu- 
lations, no  ostentatious  church  christening.  He  was 
begotten  and  born  out  of  wedlock — that's  the  reason! 
But  he  couldn't  help  it,  poor  little  chap !  And  he 
must  never  know  of  it.  The  community,  too,  must 
be  kept  in  ignorance  of  the  bey's  history.  Mammy," 
after  a  pause,  "you  remembf^r  my  old  chum,  Fred 
Huntington,  who  spent  the  -summer  here  the  year 
before  mother   died?" 

"To  be  sho',  I  does." 

"Ah,  me !  How  I  lov^.d  that  boy  in  those  old 
happy  University  days !  I  would  have  died  for 
him !" 

"And  you  don't  love  him  now?" 


14    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"What?  Love  a  man  who  betrays  a  pure,  trust- 
ing girl,  and,  his  passion  appeased,  flings  her  aside, 
a  soiled  thing,  a  candidate  for  damnation?" 

"Den  dis  baby  whar  comin'  heah  is  Mr.  Hunt- 
ington's child — his'n  and  de  gal's  whar  he  ruined?" 

"Yes ;  you  have  guessed  correctly." 

"Whar  she — de  chile's  mother?" 

"Why,  she — she — is  in  a  house  of  shame,  I  pre- 
sume. But  she  was  driven  to  it,  poor  thing — driven 
to  it  by  the  'rarity  of  Christian  charity.'  All  doors 
were  closed  against  her  when  her  sin  was  known, 
but  all  remained  open  to  her  betrayer — except  mine! 
Had  he  dared  to  enter  my  door  I  would  have  killed 
him  as  I  would  have  killed  a  snake !" 

Cindie  ventured  no  remark,  and  after  a  time  Dr. 
Custis  spoke  again. 

"What  a  sweet  slip  of  a  girl  she  was !"  he  ex- 
claimed, more  to  himself  than  to  Cindie.  "God! 
Where  can  a  man's  conscience  or  heart  be  to  de- 
flower a  child  like  that  and  then  cast  her  away  like 
a  withered  rose?" 

"De  ways  of  men  folks  is  pas'  finding  out, 
honey,"  observed  Cindie,  as  she  rose  to  light  the 
lamp. 

Dr.  Custis  smiled,  confident  that  he  was  hon- 
ored among  her  exceptions  to  the  rule,  and  singing 
softly  some  old  revival  hymn  whose  theology  he 
would  have  strenuously  combated,  went  out  to  prepare 
for  his  drive  to  the  station. 

After  awhile  he  returned  in  gloves  and  top 
coat. 

"It  is  snowing  furiously,"  he  said,  "and  the  wind 
*'.is  just  wild.    We  arc  going  to  have  a  terrific  night." 

"Ain't  you  gwine  eat  'fo'  you  go?"  inquired  Cin- 
die. 

"No,  I  don't  feel  like  it.  ]\Limmy,  do  you  know  I 
am  positively  eager  to  see  that  little  chap?     I  feel  as 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH  15 

if  we  were  going  to  have  grand  times  together — you, 
and  he  and  I." 

"I  hopes  so,  honey ;  but  I  ain't  counting  chickens 
tell  dey  pips  de  aig,  and  I  ain't  too  fas'  'bout  it  den, 
'cause  dey  mouten  be  strong  'nough  to  peck  deir  way 
outen  de  shell,  arter  all." 


CHAPTER  II. 

In  the  face  of  a  biting,  blinding  blizzard,  such  as 
Virginia  had  not  known  in  years,  the  Custis  carriage 
made  its  way  to  Elk  Bluff  that  night,  arriving  at  the 
station  ten  minutes  before  train  time. 

"Dis  one  dem  nights  whar  gwinc  to  be  talked 
'bout,"  declared  Uncle  Reuben,  as  he  got  down  from 
his  scat  and  proceeded  to  open  the  door  of  the  vehicle. 
"If  .t  keep  up  at  dis  gallop,  de  snow  of  '57  gwine  drap 
out  ricklection — 'twon't  be  a  shovelful  whar  dis 
snow  is." 

"It  is  quite  a  snow,"  remarked  Dr.  Custis,  who 
never  got  unduly  excited  about  the  weather.  "And 
there  are  no  indications  of  its  abating.  Uncle  Reuben, 
look  after  the  horses,  and  then  join  me  in  the  waiting- 
room-" 

"You  better  b'lieve  I  is,"  chuckled  Cindie's  mate, 
looking  after  the  hurrying  figure  of  the  physician. 
"You  ain't  cottin'  dis  nigger  standin'  out  heah  letlin' 
de  snow  make  one  white  man  outen  him  if  dar's  a 
han'ful  of  hot  ashes  anywhars  round.  Git  up  heah, 
Fleetfoot !"  climbing  back  into  his  seat  and  giving  the 
horse  so  named  a  taste  of  the  whip.  "Go  'long,  boss ! 
What  I  feed  you  for?  Git  up  heah.  Kit!  How  come 
you  ac'  in  dis  unladylike  way?  I  hopes  to  Gawd  dat 
Marse  Pierre  won't  have  to  meet  no  mo'  babies ;  leas'- 
ways,  in  sech  weather  as  dis  is." 

Here  a  voice,  unmistakably  African,  cut  the  snow- 
muffled  air: 

"Is  dat  you.  Brer  Reuben?" 

16 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH  17 

"Hi!  What  fool's  dat  hollin'  at  me  like  I  ain't 
got  no  yeahs?" 

"It's  me,  Brer  Reuben !  Don't  you  know  Jeems 
Bowles  ?" 

"Gawd  A'mouty !  I  mout  aknowed  'twas  dat 
cymblin'-jawed,  catlish-mouf  nigger  hollin'  at  me  like 
he  was  callin'  up  hawgs.  Jeems  Bowles !  Jeems 
Bowles!  Don't  I  know  Jeems  Bowles?  Mebbe  if  I 
hadn't  knowed  you  like  I  does,  my  ole  belly  would 
aknowed  mo'  watermillions  and  chicken  gizards. 
Look  here,  nigger  I  What  brung  you  way  up  heah  dis 
ungawdly  night?  Is  you  done  spied  some  fat  pullets 
round  Elk  Bluff?  Is  dar  no  mo'  hens  down  yo'  way 
to  'lope  wid  dese  winter  nights?" 

The  waiting-room,  shut  out  from  the  telegrapher's 
cage,  was  an  apartment  of  ten  by  twelve  feet — not 
more — and  contained  a  stove,  a  water  pail,  two  chairs, 
the  same  number  of  benches,  and  a  box  of  sawdust  to 
receive  the  amber  deposits  of  tobacco-eating  patrons 
and  employes  of  the  road, 

"Hello,  Doctor !"  shouted  the  youthful  operator, 
catching  a  glimpse  of  Dr.  Custis  through  the  aper- 
ture in  his  pen  as  the  physician  entered  the  waiting- 
room. 

"How  are  you,  Lee?  And  how  is  the  C.  and  O. 
treating  you  these  days  ?" 

"Like  a  darned  slave.  I  wanted  to  go  home  for 
Christmas,  but  it  was  impossible  to  get  off.  Come 
to  meet  somebody  from  Richmond?" 

"Yes,  a  little  friend.    Is  the  train  on  time?" 

"She  is  two  hours  late — that's  all." 

"The  devil!" 

"And  it  will  be  worse  than  the  devil  if  this  weather 
keeps  up.  Everything  will  be  at  a  standstill.  Dandy 
night,  isn't  it?" 

"A  pretty  riotous  evening." 

"I  don't  envy  you  your  trip  back  to-night." 


i8    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"It  will  be  tough  pulling,  but  I  presume  we'll  get 
home,  somehow.  Bless  my  soul !  Here's  Aunt  Millie ! 
Howdy  ?"  extending  his  hand  to  an  old  colored  woman, 
who  had  just  come  in,  accompanied  by  a  dusky  damsel 
of  calycanthus  hue. 

"Dis  is  me,"  laughed  Aunt  Millie.  "Leas'ways, 
what's  lef  of  me,  honey." 

"What's  left  of  you?  Why,  there's  more  of  you 
than  when  I  saw  you  last!  You  were  all  twisted  up 
with  rheumatism  then.  Do  you  think  this  jaunt  out 
to-night  will  help  you?" 

"Well,  you  see,  we  come — me  and  'Liza  dar — we 
come  to  meet  Delilah.  Delilah  she  in  service  up  Nawth 
now,  you  know,  and  she  comin'  home  to-night  to  spen' 
de  Chris'mas.  I  don't  spec'  I'll  suffer  fum  comin'  out. 
Tell  you  de  trufe,  honey,  I  ain't  had  one  Gawd's  bit 
of  de  rheumatiz  sense  you  subscribed  for  me  dat  time. 
Jeems  he  laughs  and  tells  me  'twas  de  sight  of  you 
more'n  de  physic  you  gin  me  whar  made  me  well, 
and  I  spec'  Jeems  he  'bout  right,  but  I  ain't  gwine  let 
on  to  dat  fool  nigger  I  'gree  wid  him.  ]\Ien  folks  too 
wise  in  deir  own  conceits,  anyways.  Hi !  Dar's  Brer 
Reuben!"  as  that  individual  shuffled  into  the  room. 
"Whar  you  come  fum,  nigger?  Whar  dat  Jeems 
Bowles  of  mine  ?" 

"He  outside  arguing  scripter  wid  a  passel  of 
udder  fool  niggers.  It  mout  keep  dem  warm,  but  it 
don't  heat  dis  nigger's  cackuss." 

Here  Dr.  Custis  slipped  out  of  the  room  and  over 
to  the  one  store  that  Elk  Bluff  boasted — a  general  mer- 
chandise concern,  kept  by  one  Hiram  Hardie. 

"Howdy,  Doctor?  Howdy?"  cried  Ben  Hardie, 
the  sixteen-year-old  son  of  the  storekeeper. 

"How  are  you,  Ben  ?    How  are  you.  son  ?" 

The  youth  was  wrapping  up  a  pound  of  coarse 
crimson  and  white  candy  for  old  Elijah  Meadows, 
famous  over  in  the  Antioch  neighborhood  because  of 
his  abbreviated  trousers  and  chronic  pessimism. 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH     19 

"Want  anything  else,  Mr.  Meadows?"  asked 
young  Hardie,  eager  to  get  to  Dr.  Custis. 

"What's  the  price  of  them  thar  plums?" 

The  short-trousered  pessimist  drew  forth  a  red 
bandana  with  a  series  of  significant  knots  in  one  corner. 

"Raisins,  you  mean?"  said  the  boy  merchant,  ma- 
liciously. 

"Ain't  no  law  agin  my  calling  'em  plums,  is  thar?" 
demanded  Meadows,  severely. 

Dr.  Custis  had  sauntered  to  where  the  toys  were. 
It  was  a  meagre  assortment,  but  he  got  out  of  it  a 
drum,  horn,  wagon,  box  of  alphabet  blocks  and  an 
illustrated  story  book  for  tots,  and  when,  at  length,  Ben 
came  bounding  to  serve  him,  he  told  the  boy  to  wrap 
up  the  articles  he  had  selected.  When  Ben  had  done 
so,  he  and  the  Doctor  took  them  out  to  the  carriage. 
The  snow  was  still  falling  fast.  In  places  it  had  drifted 
a  foot  or  more. 

"If  it  keeps  up  like  this,"  observed  Mr.  Hardie,  as 
Dr.  Custis  and  Ben  returned  to  the  store,  "it  will  beat 
the  snow  of  '57,  when  your  grandfather  was  frozen  to 
death  going  home  from  visiting  a  patient.  Ben,  you 
lazy  young  rascal,  go  put  some  more  wood  on  that 
fire.  Would  you  have  your  poor  old  daddy  work 
himself  to  death?" 

The  prosperous  country  merchant  stroked  his 
globe-shaped  abdomen,  chuckling  good-naturedly  the 
while. 

"I'm  not  sorry  this  day  is  over.  We've  certainly 
hustled,  haven't  we,  Benjy?" 

"You  bet.  Say,  Doctor,  what's  the  matter  with 
your  staying  with  us  to-night?" 

"Nothing,"  said  Mr.  Hardie.  "I  slipped  in  and 
told  your  mother  to  prepare  a  room  for  him  while 
y'all  was  out  toting  them  drum  and  things  to  the 
carriage.  You  know,  Pierre,  thar's  always  a  bed 
and  a  chair  at  the  table  in  my  house  for  you." 


20    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"I  know  that,  Mr.  Hardie,  but  I  couldn't  stay  to- 
night." 

"Why  not?"  demanded  the  merchant. 

"Please,  Doctor,"  pleaded  Ben. 

"I  couldn't,  my  boy.  I  am  expecting  company 
myself." 

"What  of  it?  We've  room  for  you  and  your 
company  both,"  persisted  Ben.  "You  might  all  get 
lost  in  the  blizzard  and  freeze  to  death  like  your 
grandpa  did  in  1857." 

"That  would  be  sad,"  smiled  the  physician,  strok- 
ing the  boy's  auburn  hair.  "However,  we'll  run  the 
risk." 

"Well,  Pierre,  if  you  can't  stay,"  said  the  elder 
Ilardie,  "we'll  have  a  glass  of  Christmas  eggnog  to- 
gether. Ben,  son,  run  and  tell  your  mother  to  send 
me  some  milk  and  one  of  her  pound  cakes.  Pierre 
Cusfis's  mouth  is  watering  for  a  slice,  tell  her.  That'll 
fetch  the  cake." 

As  the  boy  scampered  away  on  his  errand  his 
father  brought  forth  a  bowl,  the  requisite  quantity  of 
brandy,  eggs,  sugar  and  other  ingredients,  and,  rolling 
up  his  sleeves,  proceeded  to  make  the  beverage  once 
so  popular  in  Dixie  at  Yuletide. 

Presently  Ben  returned  with  a  pitcher  of  milk 
and  a  large  pound  cake  that  was  a  culinary  poem. 

"Mamma  says  nobody  but  Pierre  Custis  could 
make  her  break  her  lot  of  Christmas  cakes  before  to- 
morrow," said  Ben,  laughing. 

"What  I  tell  you?"  chuckled  his  father.  "I 
dunno  which  is  more  stuck  on  you,  Pierre — the  old 
woman  or  this  kid." 

And,  continuing  to  chuckle,  Mr.  Hardie  went  on 
with  his  eggnog  making. 

When  it  was  done,  a  glass  was  sent  to  Mrs. 
Hardie.  Then  the  men  each  drank  a  glass  for  auld 
lang  syne's  sake.     One  glass,  however,  failed  to  sat- 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH  21 

isfy  the  storekeeper.  So  he  gulped  down  another,  and 
insisted  on  the  Doctor's  doing  hkewise,  but  the  latter 
wisely  declined.  He  and  Ben,  though,  made  repeated 
assaults  upon  the  pound  cake  until  more  than  half  of 
it  was  gone. 

"Really,  I  am  ashamed  of  myself,"  confessed  the 
physician.  "But,  you  see,  I  was  wolfishly  hungry, 
having  come  off  without  supper,  and  then  Mrs.  Hardie, 
without  a  doubt,  makes  the  best  pound  cake  on  earth." 

"You're  right  thar,"  warmly  assented  that  lady's 
husband.    "Have  some  more  ?  Just  as  well  finish  it  up." 

"I'll  take  some  more,"  said  Ben. 

"Bound  for  you,  you  young  hog!  Pierre,  can't 
you  give  that  boy  something  to  check  that  ungodly 
appetite  of  hisn  ?  I  'clar'  he'll  eat  me  out  of  house  and 
home." 

^  51:  H:  *  *  *  * 

When  Dr.  Custis  returned  to  the  waiting-room, 
an  hour  later,  he  found  Uncle  Reuben  asleep — vocifer- 
ously so ;  his  lips  alienated,  his  shoulders  on  a  de- 
cided bias. 

"Awake,  Uncle  Reuben !"  shouted  the  physician, 
shaking  him.     "Awake!   The  train  is  coming!" 

"Who  dat  coming?"  came  the  stupid  response 
from  the  half -a  wakened  negro. 

■    "The  train  is  coming.   Go  get  the  carriage  ready !" 

The  old  negro  got  to  his  feet  at  last,  while  his 
master  hurried  out  to  the  platform. 

The  train  was  sweeping  around  the  curve  in  the 
road  just  below.  A  moment  more,  and  it  stopped, 
puffing  and  snorting. 

Dr.  Custis  sprang  aboard  and  into  the  first  car, 
A  young  man  with  a  child  in  his  arms  was  coming 
toward  him. 

"Is  this  Dr.  Custis  ?"  asked  the  stranger. 

"I  am  he.    And  you  are  I\Ir.  Nelson?" 


22    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"Yes,  and  here  Is  a  Christmas  present  I  have 
brought  you — the  loveHest  and  Hvelicst  one  you  ever 
got." 

"And  this  is  the  httle  chap,  is  it?"  said  the  Doc- 
tor, and  his  smile  was  half  of  awe,  half  of  adoration — a 
smile  such  as  I  amagine  was  seen  on  the  faces  of  the 
star-led  Magi  when  they  beheld  the  Babe  of  Bethlehem 

"What  a  beautiful,  beautiful  child  !"  he  exclaimed, 
taking  the  little  one's  dimpled  hand  in  his. 

"There  could  be  no  conflicting  opinions  there," 
said  young  Nelson.  "And  he  is  the  dearest  little 
fellow  in  the  world — one  of  these  little  rogues  you 
want  to  be  hugging  all  the  time.  It  broke  his  heart  to 
be  torn  from  his  mother ;  but,  fortunately,  he  fell  asleep 
soon  after  we  got  on  the  train  and  has  slept  all  the 
way  up." 

"Poor  little  chap !"  murmured  the  Doctor,  as  Nel- 
son placed  the  youngster  in  his  arms.  "Poor  little 
chap !"  he  repeated,  and  a  tear  he  could  not  restrain  fell 
on  the  little  one's  cheek.  The  child  opened  his  eyes — 
big  blue  eyes  that  borrowed  their  blue  from  summer 
skies.  Half  asleep,  half  awake,  he  smiled  seraphically, 
and,  as  if  satisfied  with  the  transfer,  coiled  his  little 
arm  around  the  stout,  virile  neck  of  the  man  who 
held  him  and,  closing  his  eyes,  slipped  back  into  slum- 
berland.  The  Doctor  imbedded  his  lips  in  the  sunny 
hair,  and  in  that  kiss,  to  him  a  sacrament,  his  heart 
became  the  boy's  for  time  and  eternity. 

"I  would  love  to  have  you  go  home  with  us,  Mr. 
Nelson." 

"I  couldn't  to-night.  Doctor.  ]\Iy  people  expect 
me  to  spend  Christmas  with  thein.  But  if  you  would 
kindly  meet  me  on  my  return — say  New  Year's  eve — 
I'll  stop  over  a  day  or  two  with  you." 

"All  right." 

"I  want  to  see  more  of  you,  to  know  you  better." 

"I'll  certainly  meet  you.  On  New  Year's  eve, 
you  say  ?" 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH    23 

"Yes.     Here's   the   check   for   the   Httle   fellow's 

baggage.    Good-by.    Merry  Christmas !" 

"Thank  you.    The  same  to  you.    Good-bye." 
And  the  train  moved  again  on  its  way  through  the 

wild,  white  night. 


CHAPTER  III. 

"I  must've  drapped  off  to  sleep !" 

And  Cindie  sprang  to  her  feet,  looking  stupidly 
about  her. 

The  clock  began  to  strike  the  hour  of  midnight. 

"Hi!  li  dat  ain't  twelve  o'clock,  and  dem  folks 
ain't  come  home  yit!  I  can't  'count  for  deir  stayin' 
so,  less  dey  done  got  los'  in  de  snow.  Lawd  Gawd ! 
Look  at  dat  nigger  dar  sprawled  out  like  he  stone 
dead  !  'Rclius !  'Relius  !  You  yaller  rascal,  you !" 
as  sh€  stooped  and  rudely  shook  her  grandson,  who 
lay  asleep  on  the  floor.  "Git  up  heah,  boy !  Git  up,  I 
tell  you,  an'  stop  dat  low-life  racket  w^id  dat  mouf  o' 
yourn.  I  'clar  if  you  don't  sno'  loud  'nough  to  'sturb 
de  folks  layin'  out  in  de  graveyard.  Nobody  else  kin 
sleep  a  wink  whar  you  is.  Git  up  heah,  nigger!"  as 
she  shook  him  again.  "Heap  o'  comp'ny  you  is,  ain't 
you  ?  'Relius !  'Relius !  I  done  called  you  for  de 
las'  time." 

Marcus  Aurelius,  awakened  at  last,  slowly  got  to 
his  feet,  rubbing  his  eyes  with  his  fist. 

"Eat  and  sleep !  Eat  and  sleep !"  exclaimed  his 
mother's  mother.  "Dat's  all  you  do,  and  dat's  all  a 
hog  do.  Eat  all  day  and  sleep  all  night !  What  sort  o' 
'sociate  is  you  bin  to  me  to-night,  sprawled  out  dar  on 
de  flo'  sno'in'  loud  'nough  for  de  folks  down  at  de 
cross  roads  to  heah  you?  Bugglers  or  highway  house 
breakers  mout  o'  come  and  kilt  me  dead  and  toted  ofiE 

24 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH  25 

ev'rything  in  de  house  and  you'd  never  knowed  it  in 
Gawd's  world !" 

"What  you  want  'long  o'  me?"  asked  the  boy. 
"I  is  heah  to  do  it,  ain't  I?" 

"All  I  wants  you  to  do  now  is  to  peel  off  dem 
duds  o'  yourn  and  go  'long  to  bed  like  white  folks. 
So  'clar  off  or  I'll  tell  Marse  Pierre  not  to  gin  you  a 
Gawd's  thing  for  Chris'mas.  You's  heern  me  speak? 
And  you  knows  I  mean  what  I  say  ?" 

Aurelius  grinned  skeptically  and  lingered  in  the 
face  of  the  dire  threat. 

"Granny,"  he  said,  his  eyes  fixed  longingly  on  the 
table  spread  for  the  Doctor.  "Granny,  Fs  got  sech 
a  gnawin'  down  heah.  Please,  marm,  gin  me  a  piece 
of  bread  and  some  'serves." 

"Hungry  arter  all  dat  vittles  whar  you  ram  down 
you  at  supper?  What  I  tole  you  'bout  yo'  eatin'  and 
sleepin'  ?    Warn't  I  tellin'  de  trufe  ?" 

"Yes,  marm ;  you  tole  de  trufe ;  you  always 
tells  it." 

"You  ain't  gwine  curry  favor  wid  me  now,  boy, 
to  git  some'n  to  eat,  for  I  ain't  gwine  gin  you  a 
mou'ful." 

"I  thinks  you  mout,  granny.  You  dunno  what  a 
gnawin'  I's  got," 

"I  'clar',  boy,  if  you  ain't  de  tantalizin'est  nigger 
whar  I  ever  rund  'cross.  You  werry  de  life  outen  me. 
Talk  'bout  de  patience  whar  Job  had!  It  warn't  no- 
whars  'longside  o'  de  patience  I  has  to  have  whar 
you  is." 

"Please,  granny,  gin  me  some  bread  and  'serves. 
I'll  go  right  to  bed  as  fas'  as  my  feet  kin  tote  me." 

"You  clar  you  will?" 

"I  clar  I  will !" 

She  went  to  the  table,  cut  off  a  slice  of  her  unsur- 
passed light  bread,  and,  spreading  it  thickly  with  dam- 
son preserves,  handed  it  to  the  boy,  who  began  to 
devour  it  as  though  he  were  perishing  of  hunger. 


26  REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"Whyn't  you  chaw  yo'  vittles,  nigger?"  demanded 
Cindie.  "Ain't  you  live  long  'nougli  wid  white  folks 
to  know  how  to  eat  yit  ?" 

"I  dunno  how  to  eat !  Dat's  one  thing  I  was  cert'n 
I  knowed  how  to  do!" 

"You  know  how  to  swallcr  things  whole,  but  dat 
ain't  eatin'.  Eatin'  is  chawin' ;  dat's  what  'tis.  Don't 
you  know  you  got  to  gin  'count  of  all  yo'  doin's  some 
day,  nigger?" 

But  Marcus  Aurelius  was  too  gross  a  materialist 
to  feel  any  anxiety  about  the  remote  future,  its  retribu- 
tions or  its  rewards. 

"Dat's  de  purtiest  baked  tukkey  I  ever  seed, 
granny,"  he  said,  teasingly,  "and  it  smell  sweeter'n  any 
'fumery." 

"You  brazen  hound-nigger,  you !  What  you 
mean  by  all  dat  hintin'?  Does  you  reckon  you  kin 
temp'  me  to  slash  into  dat  tukkey  for  you?  If  you 
does,  you's  countin'  on  eggs  hatchin'  whar  ain't  got 
no  chickens  in  'em.  'Clar  off  to  bed,  now,  or  dar  won't 
be  a  grease  spot  lef  of  you  when  I  git  done  wid  you. 
Whar  you  'spec  to  go  to,  boy,  when  you  die?" 

"Whar  you  goes." 

"Whar  I  goes?  H  you  come  whar  I  is  I  ain't 
gwine  know  you.  'Clar  off  now !  How  many  times 
I  got  tell  you?     You  hard-headed  yellow  devil  you!" 

She  made  a  movement  as  if  to  strike  him,  but 
he  sprang  out  of  her  reach  and,  with  a  laugh,  darted 
from  the  room. 

"I  lay  dat  boy  ain't  got  kivver  'nough  on  his  bed," 
reflected  his  grandmother,  and  she  called  to  him: 

"'Relius!    Oh,  'Relius!" 

"Marm !" 

"If  you  ain't  got  kivver  'nough,  honey,  go  in  my 
room  and  git  a  blanket  or  quilt  outen  de  chist." 

She  turned  and  went  upstairs  to  look  after  the 
fire  she  had  built  in  the  Doctor's  bed-room  an  hour 
ago.    As  she  touched  the  bottom  step  on  her  way  back 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH  27 

the  front  door  opened  and  in  walked  Dr.  Custis  with 
his  Httle  charge. 

"Well,  mammy,  we  are  home  again!"  he  ex- 
claimed. 

"Gawd  knows  I  glad  'nough  you  is." 

"It  was  certainly  tough  work  getting  here,  but  I 
managed  to  keep  our  little  man-child  dry  and  warm." 

"I  lay  you'd  done  dat  if  you  frez  yo'sef.  And 
dat's  him,'is'it?" 

"This  is  he.    Isn't  he  beautiful?" 

He  placed  the  child,  still  asleep,  in  her  arms. 

"Say,  isn't  he  beautiful  ?"  he  repeated. 

"He  cert'n  is.  He  purtier  dan  one  angel.  Whar 
did  you  git  dis  paradise-lookin'  chile  fum,  anyway? 
But  I  ain't  gwine  praise  him  no  mo',  'cause  you'll 
stand  heah  till  mawnin'  wid  dem  wet  trappings  on.  Go 
right  straight  upstars  now  and  git  in  some  dry  close. 
Go  'long,  go  'long !    I  kin  'tend  to  de  chile." 

And  without  further  ado,  she  repaired  to  the  fire, 
bearing  the  sleeping  youngster  in  her  arms. 

Dr.  Custis,  thus  deserted,  laughed  gleefully — he 
had  not  been  so  happy  in  a  long  time — and  ran  up- 
stairs, singing  softly : 

"Calm  on  the  listening  ear  of  night 
Come  heaven's   melodious   strains, 

Where  wild  Judea  stretches  far 
Her  silver-mantled  plains." 

The  fire,  restored  by  Cindie's  strenuous  coaxing 
and  the  application  of  several  fresh  logs,  was  burning 
vigorously.  On  the  rug,  enjoying  the  warmth  of  the 
blaze,  lay  stretched  Rebel,  the  physician's  Maltese  cat. 
"You  know  how  to  enjoy  life,  don't  you,  Reb?" 
The  animal  opened  his  eyes  and  rolled  over  on 
his  back,  disclosing  his  beautiful  belly,  white  as  the 
snow  falling  without ;  then,  enwreathing  his  head  with 
his  forefeet,  he  looked  up  at  his  master,  inviting  a 
caress.     But  the  young  man's  thoughts  w^ere  of  the 


28  REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

little  lad  downstairs,  and,  eager  to  return  to  him,  he 
hurriedly  got  out  of  his  top  coat  and  boots, 

"Poor  Dorothy!"  he  mused.  "How  lonely  she 
must  be  to-night  without  the  little  chap !  And  how  he 
will  niiss  her  when  he  awakens !  I  dread  it,  for  I 
won't  know  what  to  do  except,  perhaps,  to  cry  with 
him,  I  feel  so  sorry  for  him.  But  mammy  will  be 
equal  to  the  occasion,  she  has  always  been  such  a  child 
charmer.  There !  he  has  awakened.  He  is  crying — 
crying  for  his  mother.  Poor  little  chap !  He  misses 
her  so ;  he  wants  her.  Nobody  else  can  take  her  place  ; 
her  breast  is  his  home.  Poor  little  chap!  /  kv.ozv!  I 
have  been  there.  We  have  all  been  there,  but  we 
forget." 

He  hastily  drew  on  his  slippers  and  went  down- 
stairs, two  steps  at  a  bound.  Mammy  sat  before  the 
fire  rocking  the  little  one,  who  was  sobbing  piteously 
for  his  mother. 

And  Dr.  Custis,  his  heart  wrung  by  the  child's 
loneliness,  went  to  him,  laid  his  hand  on  his  head  and 
murmured : 

"Custis,  son !" 

It  was  all  he  said ;  it  was  all  he  could  say,  but 
there  was  a  tenderness  in  his  voice  that  carried  healing 
to  the  boy's  spirit.  ?Ie  ceased  at  once  to  cry ;  his  eyes 
sought  those  looking  upon  him  with  such  unutterable 
love,  and  as  Dr.  Custis  stretched  forth  his  arms  to- 
ward him,  the  little  one  sprang  into  them  as  into  the 
embrace  of  his  mother. 

"Hi!  Did  you  see  dat?"  chuckled  Cindie.  some- 
what piqued.  "Dat  chile  ain't  bin  used  to  black  folks, 
I  'spec  he  takes  me  for  old  Nick's  wife." 

"Fie  does  nothing  of  the  kind.  The  little  chap 
is  out  of  sorts  to-night,  naturally,  away  from  his 
mother.  So  be  patient  with  him,  I  wonder  if  he  can 
be  hungry?  Are  you,  son?  Warm  some  milk  for 
him,  mammy." 

"Didn't  I  done  it  while  you  was  upstars  and  he 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH    29 

wouldn't  tech  it?  Didn't  I  crumble  some  nice  fresli, 
light  bread  in  de  milk  and  he  turn  his  head  off  like 
twarn't  clean?    But  mebbe  you  kin  git  him  to  eat  it." 

"Perhaps  he  wasn't  hungry  then?" 

"How  come  he  ain't  hungry  one  minute  and  den 
hungry  de  nex'  ?    Heah,  you  try  him." 

"All  right,"  he  said,  taking  tlie  bowl  of  infantile 
food  from  her. 

He  filled  the  spoon  and  put  it  to  the  boy's  lips. 
The  sweet,  red  mouth  opened,  and  without  the  least 
hesitancy  he  swallowed  the  food.  Thus  encouraged. 
Dr.  Custis  continued  to  feed  him  until,  at  length,  the 
child  indicated  he  had  enough  by  turning  away  with  a 
sigh  and  dropping  his  head  on  the  physician's  breast. 

"Take  this,  please,  mammy,"  said  Dr.  Custis, 
handing  the  bowl  back  to  Cindie.  "He  wants  to  go 
to  sleep  again.  Don't  you,  son?"  kissing  the  little 
fellow's  hair,  then  his  cheeks,  next  his  hands.  "Did 
Uncle  Reuben  bring  in  his  valise?  Yes,  there  it  is, 
and  here  is  the  key.  Mammy,  will  you  see  if  there  is 
a  night  shirt  among  his  clothes?" 

He  handed  her  the  key,  and,  standing  little  Custis 
on  the  rug,  proceeded  to  disrobe  him  without  any  pro- 
test whatever  from  the  youngster,  who  seem^ed  to  re- 
gard it  as  the  next  move  in  the  game. 

"Hi !  What  a  whole  passel  of  close !"  exclaimed 
Cindie.  "Dey  jes'  packed  in  dis  thing.  Dar's  a  plenty 
to  las'  de  chile  tell  he  ole  'nough  to  war  britches.  But 
ain't  dis  dress  purty?"  holding  up  a  delicate  white 
garment.  "And  heah's  anudder  jes'  as  purty,  and  so 
is  dis  heah  one.  I  'spec  he  look  sweet  'nough  to  eat 
in  arry  one  o'  'em." 

"He  would  look  that  in  anything,  or  in  nothing — 
indeed,  sweetest  in  nothing,  just  as  he  is  now,"  said 
Dr.  Custis,  as  he  removed  the  boy's  last  garment.  "Ye 
pagan  gods !  What  a  superb  youngster !  How  per- 
fectly he  is  put  together !  What  arms !  What  legs ! 
What  a  chest !  He  is  a  poem,  tliis  boy  is  !" 


30    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

And  the  child-lover  fell  to  kissing  the  lad  with 
a  passion  such  as  only  mothers  feel. 

"Tiss  me  adin,"  said  the  youngster,  with  a  smile 
approaching  laughter  when  the  Doctor  ceased.  And 
the  Doctor  kissed  him  again,  following  the  kiss  with 
a  pretense  of  biting  the  boy's  arm,  at  which  the  child 
broke  into  laughter,  filling  the  room  with  the  sweetest 
music  ever  heard  there.  And  his  laughter  carried  con- 
tagion, for  the  next  moment  Dr.  Custis  and  Cindie 
were  laughing  with  him,  and  as  they  had  not  laughed 
in  years. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Dr.  Ciistis  was  awakened  by  the  coming  of 
Aurelius  to  make  the  fire,  a  log  falHng  from  the  boy's 
arms  just  as  he  passed  the  physician's  bed. 

"Christmas  gift,  'Rebus!" 

The  lad  started,  dropping  the  remainder  of  his 
fire  wood. 

"Lawd  Jesus,  Marse  Pierre!  Did  I  woke  you  up 
when  I  drap  dat  chunk  of  wood  ?" 

"It  is  my  belief  that  you  did." 

"  'Fo'  Gawd,  I  didn't  done  it  on  purpose." 

"You  wouldn't  be  living  now  if  you  had,  you 
villain !" 

Aurelius  grinned  as  if  he  doubted  it,  and,  turn- 
ing, struck  a  match  and  proceeded  to  build  a  fire. 

"Is  it  still  snowing,  'Relius  ?" 

"Yas,  sub,  and  'tis  deep  as  torment,  de  snow  is. 
Out  in  de  open  it  done  drifted  higher'n  I  is.  Heah 
on  de  lawn  it  done  most  kivvered  up  de  rose  bushes 
and  boxwood.  I  ain't  ric'lec'  seein'  no  snow  like  dis 
heah  one  sense  Jesus  puffed  bref  in  me,  is  you?" 

"Yes ;  one  or  two." 

"I  ain't,  and  I  tells  you  now  dat  dis  nigger  'ginning 
to  git  skeered.  'Spose  it  keep  on  snowin'  and  snowin' 
tell  it  kivver  de  house  up  ?  What  we  gwine  do  ?  And 
'tis  cole  out  dose,  man !  It  pucker  yo'  skin  all  up  in 
little  bumps  wussen  an  ole  goose's  skin." 

"I  trust  no  one  will  imagine  he  needs  me  to-day," 

31 


32    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

said  Dr.  Custis.  "This  is  a  clay  a  fellow  likes  to  hug 
the  fire." 

"I  hopes  myself  nohody  will  be  fool  'nougli  to  send 
for  you,"  observed  Aurelius,  sympathetically,  as  he 
rose  from  his  knees  and  surveyed  the  fire  preparatory 
to  throwing  on  a  log  or  two.  "But  I  lay  somebody 
gwine  send  for  you  fo'  de  mawnin'  done  gone.  Dese 
folks  'bout  heah  ain't  got  a  Gawd's  bit  of  'sideration 
for  you.  H  dey  runs  a  splinter  in  deir  big  toe,  you  got 
to  go  to  pull  it  out  for  'em.  And  dese  pizen  niggers 
is  a  heap  sight  wussen  white  folks." 

Deeming  the  fire  strong  enough  to  lick  up  the  logs 
he  had  been  holding,  the  speaker  here  tossed  them 
into  the  embrace  of  the  greedy  flames. 

"j\Iarse  Pierre,  I  is  mouty  'bleeged  to  you  for  de 
par  of  boots  and  gloves  and  dat  skeer  face — I  had  jes' 
sot  my  'fections  on  dat  skeer  face — and  all  dem  'fec- 
tioneries  whar  you  stuff  my  sock  wid.  I  lay  dar  ain't 
narry  nigger  nowhars  rovmd  dese  diggings  dat's  far'd 
like  I  done  far'd  dis  Chris'mas." 

"Does  that  fact  give  you  pleasure,  my  boy?" 

"Cert'n'y  it  do." 

"Then  you  don't  wish  others  to  fare  as  well 
as  you  ?" 

There  was  a  note  of  pain  in  the  Doctor's  voice, 
which  the  youth  was  quick  to  detect,  and  it  worried 
him. 

"Well,  suh,  not  'zactly,"  he  stammered.  "I  dunno 
dat  I  is  equal  to  de  'mergency  of  'splainin'  myself  to 
yo'  satisfaction,  but  dis  is  de  way  I  views  de  matter : 
You  see,  if  I  has  more'n  de  udder  niggers — I  mean  if 
de  udder  niggers  don't  git  much  as  I  git — I  sort  o' 
'preciate  mo'  what  I  gits  dan  I'd  'preciate  it  if  dey  all 
was  to  git  de  same  whar  I  git." 

"Then  you  don't  wish  to  see  others  well  and 
itrong?  Good  health  would  be  too  common  then.  You 
couldn't  appreciate  it  unless  others  were  frail  and  dis- 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH  33 

eased?  You  wouldn't  like  to  see  everybody  have 
enough  to  eat?  You  could  relish  your  own  food  so 
much  more  if  you  knew  that  some  poor  devils  around 
you  were  starving  to  death  ?  You  wouldn't  like  to  see 
everybody  warm  in  weather  like  this?  You  would 
have  your  neighbors  shiver  and  freeze?  The  contrast 
would  make  your  own  fire  such  a  luxury  to  you." 

"For  Jesus'  sake,  Marse  Pierre !"  cried  Aurelius. 
"If  you  don't  stop  scorchin'  me  up  like  dat,  Fll  drap 
dead  wid  shame  right  whar  I  is.    I  'clar  I  will !" 

"  'Relius,  you  are  an  individualist,  I  fear." 

"What  dat,  Marse  Pierre?  Some'n  scan'lous  sin- 
ful, I  lay?"  _ 

"Well,  individualist  is  the  polite  name  for  a  selfish 
person — a  person  who  doesn't  care  if  all  the  world  goes 
to  the  devil  so  long  as  he  doesn't." 

"Brer  Jasper  he  one  den.  What  you  reckon  he 
sez,  Marse  Pierre?  I  heern  him  say  no  longer'n  las' 
Sunday  down  at  Shiloh  dat  de  greatest  joy  whar  de 
saints  '11  have  up  in  heaven  is  gwine  to  be  to  look  down 
in  hell  and  feas'  deir  eyes  on  de  millions  and  millions 
of  sinners  burnin'  and  roastin'  dar  and  hollin'  to  Mr. 
Devil  please  gin  'em  a  drap  of  water  to  cool  deir 
parchin'  tongues  wid.  'Twould  make  de  redeemed, 
Brer  Jasper  sez,  'preciate  de  glories  of  heaven  and 
praise  Jesus  louder  for  savin'  dem  to  see  de  miseries 
and  de  burnings  of  de  wicked  in  de  lake  of  fire  and 
brimstone." 

"The  damned  old  gorilla!"  was  the  Doctor's  com- 
ment. 

"You  don't  believe  in  no  hell,  does  you,  Marse 
Pierre?" 

"Yes,  I  believe  in  hell.  How  can  one  get  away 
from  the  fact  when  it  confronts  one  everywhere?" 

"Whar  'tis?"  cried  the  lad,  moving  nearer  his 
master. 

"It  is  wherever  selfishness  is,  wherever  ignorance 
is.    And  heaven  is  wherever  love  is,  wherever  wisdom 


34    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

is,  be  it  in  this  world  or  any  other  world.  Once  every 
three  hundred  and  sixty-five  days  the  earth  takes  on  a 
little  of  the  nature  of  heaven,  but  the  26th  of  December 
finds  it  more  firmly  frozen  than  ever  in  selfishness,  as 
if  ashamed  of  the  little  thawing  the  memory  of  Jesus 
had  given  it  the  day  before.  We  have  come  once  again 
to  this  annual  thawing  of  humanity,  so  let  us  make  the 
most  of  it." 

Dr.  Custis  was  about  to  spring  out  of  bed,  when 
his  little  bed-fellow  stirred  in  his  sleep  and  flung  his 
arm  across  his  breast. 

"Darling  little  chap !  Did  I  disturb  you,  son,  by 
my  loud  tongue- wagging  ?"  and  the  Doctor  took  the 
little  hand  in  his,  kissing  it  softly. 

"Marse  Pierre,  lem  me  look  at  him !"  whispered 
'Relius,  advancing  a  step  or  two  on  tip  toe.  "I  bin 
itchin'  all  de  mawnin'  to  git  a  peep  at  dat  boy." 

"Well,  here  he  is,"  smiled  the  physician,  as  he 
gently  removed  the  child's  arm  from  his  breast  and, 
throwing  off  the  cover,  sprang  to  the  floor. 

"Ain't  he  purty?"  grinned  the  mulatto  lad,  in 
genuine  admiration. 

"Pretty?    He  is  beautiful!"  amended  his  master. 

"He  is  dat.    Look  at  dem  dents  in  his  jaws!" 

"Those  are  dimples  in  his  cheeks,  you  mutilator  of 
English !  Why  is  it,  'Relius,  you  zvill  talk  like  a  negro?" 

"  'Cause  I  one  myself,  I  reckon.  'Dat's  how  come." 


CHAPTER  V. 

Little  Custis,  garmented  in  white,  sat  before  the 
fire,  surrounded  by  his  Christmas  presents — and  his 
adoring  svibjects,  who  were  regarding  his  every  move- 
ment as  though  a  child  were  a  new  thing  under  the 
sun. 

"Beat  de  dum  turn  mo',  Welius,"  he  commanded, 
turning  to  the  youth,  who  was  in  high  favor  at  court 
just  now  because  of  the  proficiency  he  had  shown  as  a 
drummer. 

Aurelius  rolled  over  on  his  right  side — he  had 
been  lying  on  his  abdomen,  heels  ceilingward — and 
gave  forth  one  of  his  loud  laughs, 

"Now,  jes'  lis'n  at  dat  nigger's  hoss  laugh,"  ob- 
served his  grandmother,  good-naturedly.  "No  wonder 
de  chile  star  at  you,  boy,  like  he  dunno  what  to  make 
of  you." 

"Tustis  lubs  to  hear  Welius  laugh,"  declared  the 
little  fellow. 

And  Aurelius,  thus  licensed  to  laugh  and  as  loudly 
as  he  wished,  rolled  over  on  his  left  side  and  roared, 
smashing  all  his  previous  records  at  laughing. 

Dr.  Custis  sat  enjoying  it  all,  his  eyes  radiant  with 
mirth,  his  mouth  open  as  if  on  the  brink  of  laughter 
himself. 

"Beat  the  drum  for  him,  'Relius,"  he  said.  "That 
seems  to  interest  him  more  than  anything  else." 

Aurelius  seized  the  drum  and  sprang  to  his  feet, 
while  little  Custis  also  got  to  his,  and,  running  to  the 

35 


36    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

physician,  took  his  stand  between  the  latter's  legs,  with 
a  hand  on  each  knee.  The  Doctor  entwined  his  arm 
about  the  httle  figure,  and,  lowering  his  hps  until  they 
touched  the  boy's  hair,  baptized  them  in  the  living  gold. 
Here  Reuben,  who  had  been  out  in  his  quarters 
enjoying  his  corn-cob  pipe  in  solitude,  shuffled  into 
the  room. 

"Hi !  What  y'all  think  ?"  he  cried.  "Dar's  a  ca'idge 
comin'  and  it  looks  jes'  like  Miss  'Ria's  turnout  for 
de  world." 

"Go  'way,  nigger!"  sniffed  his  incredulous  spouse. 
"I  knowed  you  was  drinkin'  too  much  of  dat  cggnog, 
but  you  wouldn't  lis'n  to  me." 

"H  you  couldn't  work  yo'  tongue  you'd  drap 
dead,"  retorted  old  Reuben.  "I  ain't  no  more  upsot 
fum  dat  eggnog  dan  what  you  is." 

"Den  you  dreamin'.  What  you  reckon  ole  Miss 
'Ria  comin'  heah  a  day  like  dis  for?" 

"Ain't  I  sawd  de  ca'idge  an'  ole  Dan'l  Jcrd'n 
sottin'  up  drivin'  of  it?  And  don't  you  reckon  I  know 
dat  ole  gray  mar'  of  Miss  'Ria's?" 

Dr.  Custis,  in  the  meantime,  had  gone  to  the 
window  to  see  for  himself. 

"Yes,  it  is  Cousin  Maria,"  he  said.  "That's  her 
carriage.  But  what  on  earth  brings  her  out  in  weather 
like  this?  Surely  not  in  the  interest  of  diocesan  mis- 
sions ?" 

"Don't  you  know  what  done  brung  ole  Miss  'Ria 
out  to-day?"  said  Cindie,  all  doubt  now  removed.  "De 
same  thing  whar  made  ole  Eve  itch  tell  she  pull  dat 
apple  and  made  Adam  take  a  bite  outen  it.  Miss  'Ria's 
done  heern  'bout  dat  chile  someways,  and  she  come  to 
find  out  all  'bout  him.  all  de  whys  and  wharforcs.  I 
tells  you  now  she  ain't  pumpin'  dis  nigger.  Cindie's 
tongue  gwine  be  par'lyzed  whar  dat  'oman  is,  I 
knows  her  of  ole,  I  does.  You  knows  what  (ley  scz 
'bout  Miss  'Ria?  Miss  May  Jane  Pilcher  sez  she'll 
swar  on  a  stack  of  Bibles  higher'n  de  sky  dat  ole  Miss 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH    37 

'Ria  sots  down  in  a  book  de  day  dat  ev'ry  gal  gits 
married  whar  she  knows  and  den  de  day  when  de 
fus'  chile  is  bawn  and  woe  be  to  dat  po'  gal  whar  has 
a  baby  'fo'  de  'pinted  time.  She  ain't  nobody  arter 
de  accident  whar  done  'fell  her  in  ole  Miss  'Ria's  eyes." 
"What  in  the  devil  is  she  standing  out  there  all 
this  time  jawing  with  Uncle  Daniel  for?"  exclaimed 
Dr.  Custis. 

"Ain't  dat  ]\Iiss  'Ria  over  and  over?     I  lay  she 
ain't  got  nigh  'nough  close  on." 

"Whose  fault  is  it  if  she  hasn't?" 

"Hern,  to  be  sho,  I  'clar'  'tis  one  mortal  sin  de 
way  dat  white  'oman  do  stint  herself  in  close  and 
vittles,  wid  all  de  money  and  houses  and  gov'men' 
bonds  whar  she  got.  Now,  if  she  'nied  herself  to  gin 
to  po'  folks,  I  would  shet  my  mouf  tight,  and  hole  it 
shet ;  but  who  ever  heern  tell  of  ole  Miss  'Ria's  ginning 
a  cent's  worth  to  anybody  'cep'n  she  beg  it  fust  fum 
udder  folks  to  gin?  \Ye\l,  well,  she's  got  done  con- 
fabbing at  last,  is  she?  Wonder  she  ain't  frez  stiff 
out  dar  wid  no  close  on  wuth  talkin'  'bout  an'  no 
meat  on  her  ole  bones !  Jesus  Gawd !  What  a  pack  of 
bones  dat  'oman  is !  She  must  keep  Lent  all  de  yeah 
round.  And  dar's  dat  big,  pumkin-faced  Tillie  Toler 
'long  wid  her.  'Relius,"  turning  to  her  grandson, 
"don't  you  go  tantalizin'  dat  gal  soon  she  git  in  de 
house.  If  you  does,  I  gwine  bruise  you  black  and  blue. 
You  won't  be  able  to  turn  over  for  a  yeah,  suh.  I 
'low  she'll  'courage  you — dat's  de  gal  of  it — and  Vv'hen 
you  git  to  teasin'  her  she  gwine  squeal  out  like  you 
killin'  her.  I  wants  you  to  'have  yo'self  seemly.  Keep 
in  yo'  cornder  and  let  her  stick  in  hern.  You's  heern 
me  speak  now." 

Dr.  Custis  had  gone  out  to  meet  his  kinswoman, 
to  assume  a  pleasure  he  failed  to  feel.  Thus  doth 
courtesy  oft  make  hypocrites  of  us  all ! 

"I  thought  I  should  never  get  here,"  began  Miss 


38    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

Warwick,  "it  is  simply  awful.  I  know  you  are  sur- 
prised to  see  me  out  a  day  like  this  ?" 

"To  be  candid,  I  am  surprised,  remembering  that 
tlie  entire  autumn  was  exceptionally  fine  and  you  came 
not  once  to  see  us  in  all  that  time.  Why  in  the  devil 
don't  you  wear  clothes  enough  to  keep  you  warm,  frail 
as  you  are?  Would  you  rather  freeze  than  disturb 
that  pile  of  gold  ?  You  can't  carry  any  of  it  to  heaven. 
And  if  you  could,  you  would  find  it  as  common  there  as 
are  brick  and  asphalt  here,  since  the  streets,  we  are 
told,  are  all  paved  with  it." 

"How  sacrilegiously  you  go  on!"  protested  ]\Iiss 
Warwick.  "That's  the  very  reason  I  don't  come  to 
Holly  Hill  oftener." 

Dr.  Custis  laughed. 

"Come,  let  us  go  in  where  the  fire  is,"  he  said, 
resolved  to  be  as  amiable  as  possible.  And  he  led 
the  way  to  the  sitting-room. 

"Oh,  dear !  Oh,  dear !  What  a  bedlam  !"  she  ex- 
claimed, slapping  her  hands  over  her  ears. 

Dr.  Custis  motioned  Aurelius  to  cease  his  drum- 
beating,  in  deference  to  his  godmother's  wishes. 

Little  Custis  looked  up  wonderingly,  then  frown- 
ingly  at  the  miser-pietist,  while  she  sized  the  child  up 
out  of  her  small  gooseberry-green  eyes,  dashed  meanly 
with  yellow. 

"Is  that  he?"  she  demanded,  pointing  dramatically 
to  the  little  fellow. 

"That  is  a  he,  certainly,"  returned  the  Doctor. 
"But  before  I  can  tell  you  if  it  be  llic  he  you  have  in 
mind,  an  explanation  is  in  order." 

"Well,  old  Millie  Bowles  came  by  the  house  this 
morning,  and  she  told  me  you  were  at  Elk  Blull'  last 
night  to  meet  a  child  you  were  going  to  adopt.  I 
couldn't  believe  the  story,  it  seemed  so  absurd." 

"It  is  true,  and  there  is  the  youngster.  \\'hat  do 
you  think  of  him?" 

"Well,  he  isn't  a  bad-looking  child.     Indeed,  T 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH  39 

migflit  say  with  perfect  truth  that  he  is  a  handsome 
child — a  remarkably  handsome  child.  But  beauty 
amounts  to  nothing — is  really  a  curse — where  it  is  not 
sanctified  by  God's  grace.  Has  he  received  the  sacra- 
ment of  baptism  yet?" 

'T  don't  know  whether  he  has  or  not.  'Relius,  put 
some  wood  on  the  fire.  Uncle  Reuben,  don't  let  Uncle 
Daniel  freeze  out  there." 

But  the  stickler  for  mint  and  anise  was  not  to  be 
sidetracked  so  easily. 

"You'll  have  the  child  baptized,  of  course,  if  he 
hasn't  been?"  she  pursued.  "And  you  will  not  delay 
the  matter  ?" 

"Fll  leave  it  to  him  until  he  is  old  enough  to  act 
for  himself." 

"Why,  you  talk  like  a  bigoted  old  Baptist!  And 
you  a  Churchman,  and  of  Churchman  stock!" 

He  made  no  attempt  to  defend  his  apostasy. 

"Pierre  Custis  !  Look  at  me  !" 

"Well  ?    I  am  looking  at  you." 

"Whose  child  is  that,  Pierre  ?    What's  his  name  ?" 

"His  name?    Why,  his  name  is  Custis!" 

"Custis,  eh?  Custis?  Then  you  don't  even  seek 
to  disguise  the  fact.    He  bears  your  name  boldly." 

"What  in  the  devil  are  you  driving  at?  Custis  is 
the  boy's  first  name — not  his  surname." 

"Ah,  I  see !"  with  a  sneer.  "Then  what's  his  sur- 
name, may  I  ask?" 

"Pierre  Custis  Christian  is  his  full  name.  Is  that 
satisfactory  ?" 

"Pierre  Custis  Christian!  He  is  named  for  you, 
then?    And  his  mother  was — or  is  a  friend  of  yours?" 

"Yes,  and  his  father  was  too." 

"Christian !  Christian !  A  good  old  Virginia 
name !  Still,  I  never  heard  of  your  having  any  close 
friends  by  that  name." 

"Do  you  suppose  I  made  no  friendships  in  the 
years  I  was  away  at  the  university  or  at  the  medical 


40    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

college?  And  that  it  was  incumbent  upon  me,  on  my 
return  home,  to  publish  my  list  of  friends  in  the 
Goochland  Democrat  or  the  Southern  Churchman?" . 

"And  you  would  have  me  believe  that  this  boy  is 
the  son  of  some  old  college  friend  of  yours — some 
young  fellow  v/hom  you  knew  in  Charlottesville  or 
Richmond?" 

"It  is  of  no  consequence  to  me  whether  you  believe 
it  or  not." 

"Well,  I  don't  believe  it !" 

"What  do  you  mean.  Cousin  Maria?    Speak  out!" 

"Just  what  I  said — /  do)it  believe  any  such  story! 
Young  unmarried  men  are  not  willing  to  burden  them- 
selves with  the  support  of  other  people's  brats.  Now 
and  then,  you  see  a  married  couple  without  children 
foolish  enough  to  do  it,  but  a  single  man — never !" 

"You  know — everybody  knows — of  my  love  for 
children." 

"Oh,  pshavv^ !  Pshaw !  You  can't  deceive  me, 
Pierre.  So  why  not  come  out  like  a  man  and  own 
up  to  the  truth?" 

"Suppose  you  come  out  first  like  a  woman  and 
say  what  you  mean  and  stop  dodging  behind  your 
nasty  inuendoes  ?    Out  with  what  you  have  to  say !" 

"You  are  anxious  to  hear  it,  then?  Well,  yon  are 
the  father  of  that  child!  Aren't  you  ashamed  of  your- 
self?" 

In  all  his  life  he  had  never  been  so  wantonly 
wounded,  and  a  woman,  his  kinswoman  and  god- 
mother at  that,  had  done  it — a  woman,  too.  who  prided 
herself  on  her  gentle  breeding,  her  devotion  to  Chris- 
tianity. 

"Is  the  heaven  you  rhapsodize  about  made  up  of 
people  like  you?"  he  asked,  with  an  awful  calmness. 
"Then  I  prefer  hell!     I  would  be  happier  there." 

A  little  hand  clutclicd  his  leg,  two  blue  eyes  looked 
up  into  his,  two  red  lips  broke  apart  in  laughter.  He 
smiled,  and,  stooping,  took  the  youngster   up   in  his 


REBELS  .OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH  41 

arms  and  laid  his  cheek  on  his.  And  it  soothed  him 
so,  as  nothing  else  could  have  done,  did  the  love,  the 
touch  of  the  little  one. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

"Yes,  I  longed  to  meet  you,  Doctor,"  said  Paul 
Nelson.  "I  wanted  to  know  you  because  of  the  beauti- 
ful things  Dorothy  is  ever  saying  of  you.  Do  you 
know  the  girl  has  put  you  on  a  pedestal,  high  above 
all  other  men?  She  believes  you  to  be  a  veritable 
divinity,  a  god  in  the  flesh?  I  remember  her  saying 
one  time:  'I  love  Pierre  Custis,  not  as  women  love 
men,  but  as  they  ought  to  love  God.  The  worship  I 
should  have  given  my  Maker  I  have  given  him.  But 
God  will  not  care.  He  is  too  great  to  be  jealous  of 
one  whom  He  has  made  so  like  Himself.'  " 

Dr.  Custis  blushed,  and,  to  allay  his  embarrass- 
ment, picked  up  Rebel  and  fell  to  caressing  him.  Pres- 
ently he  said: 

"Talk  to  me  of  her — tell  me  all  about  the  girl. 
If  she  were  my  own  sister  I  could  not  love  her  more,  or 
feel  for  her  more.  I  have  hungered  so  for  some  word 
from  her  or  about  her." 

"Well,  there  isn't  much  to  toll.  You  knew  her 
before  I  did.  You  knew  the  man  who  wrought  her 
ruin.  You  and  he  were  college  chums,  boarding  with 
her  aunt,  for  whom  she  was  a  drudge  at  the  time." 

"She  has  told  you,  then,  of  the  hard  life — the 
slavery — that  was  hers  in  the  Hewitt  household,  her 
only  compensation  being  an  occasional  ribbon  or  thrce- 
ccnt-a-yard  dress.    God !    Plow  my  blood  used  to  boil 

42 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH  43 

when  I  contrasted  her  cheap  attire  with  all  the  finery 
in  which  those  Hewitt  dolls  strutted  around !  But  for 
all  that,  she  outshone  her  cousins,  for  she  had  the 
trinity  of  essentials  in  a  woman  which  they  had  not — 
beauty,  winsomeness,  cleverness.  They  knew  it,  too,  as 
did  their  mother,  and  they  all  conspired  in  every  way 
to  keep  Dorothy  in  the  background.  She  seldom  ever 
had  the  chance  to  go  anywhere,  even  to  church,  because 
of  the  work  imposed  upon  her.  But  the  church  doors 
were  never  ajar  that  the  pious  old  cat  and  her  kittens 
were  not  there  to  hear  how  Jesus  had  died  and  paid  it 
all." 

Nelson  smiled. 

"Yes,  she  told  me  of  the  sad  days  she  passed  in 
the  Hewitt  home,"  he  said,  "of  the  coming  of  you  and 
Huntington  to  board  in  the  house ;  of  the  ambition 
of  the  old  woman  to  have  her  daughters  become  Mrs. 
Custis  and  Mrs.  Huntington,  respectively,  and  of  the 
wiles  and  strategies  employed  by  mother  and  maidens 
to  make  you  gentlemen  propose." 

"I  don't  know  about  myself,"  said  Dr.  Custis, 
"but  I  am  certain  that  Mrs.  Hewitt  would  have  been 
very  proud  of  Fred  as  a  son-in-law.  All  her  scheming, 
however,  was  fruitless.  Fred  conceived  a  positive 
aversion  for  both  girls,  while  Dorothy  attracted  him 
from  the  first.  Her  wrongs  made  him  cry  out  as  in- 
dignantly as  they  made  me.  He  couldn't  contain  him- 
self at  times.  And  yet  he  afterward  wronged  her  as 
nobody  else  had  done.  Strange  !  Strange  it  has  always 
seemed  to  me.  Villain  as  he  turned  out  to  be,  I  am 
sure  he  meant  well  in  the  beginning,  that  his  intentions 
were  honorable,  that  he  loved  her.  It  was  not  until 
the  evil  had  been  done,  not  until  they  had  forfeited 
their  innocence,  that  the  villain  in  him  developed.  He 
was  not  man  enough  to  stand  by  the  girl,  to  right  the 
wrong  he  had  done  by  making  her  his  wife.  Maternal 
wrath,  disinheritance,  ostracism — these  were  too  much 
for  him.    He  could  not  bring  these  misfortunes  upon 


44    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

Viimscif  for  the  mere  sake  of  doing  the  manly  thing. 
So  he  sneaked  away  in  the  night  hke  the  base  coward 
he  was." 

"And  then  it  was  that  you  offered  her  your  name, 
yourself — all  that  you  had — as  he  who  had  wronged 
her  should  have  done?"  said  Nelson. 

"Did  she  tell  you  about  that?" 

"Yes.  Is  it  any  wonder  she  worships  you?  Is  it 
any  wonder  I  longed  to  know  such  a  man?" 

"I  doubt  if  it  would  have  been  any  sacrifice  on 
my  part.  I  loved  Dorothy  as  one  loves  a  younger 
sister  or  a  little  child.  Her  wrongs,  her  loneliness, 
her  helplessness  intensified  this  feeling,  and  I  longed 
to  shield  her  from  scorn,  to  save  her,  to  make  her 
happy,  and  I  should  have  been  happy  myself  if  she  had 
allowed  me  the  privilege  of  protecting  and  caring  for 
her — far  happier  than  I  have  been  in  the  past  two 
years  and  a  half,  knowing  not  where  she  was,  but  cer- 
tain of  the  life  she  was  living.  No,  it  would  have  been 
no  sacrifice  at  all.  What  will  a  man  not  do  to  save  his 
sister  from  shame  ?  And  I  loved  Dorothy  Christian  as 
few  men  love  their  sisters,  as  I  never  loved  my  own 
sister.  But  it  happened  we  were  not  born  of  the  same 
parents,  and  I  could  not  have  brought  the  girl  here, 
living,  as  I  do,  the  life  of  a  bachelor,  without  blacken- 
ing her  name.  No  matter  how  chaste  our  relations,  no 
matter  how  white  our  thoughts  toward  each  other, 
conventionalism  would  never  have  tolerated  such  a 
thing.  You  know  how  it  is:  We  are  judged  solely  by 
appearances.  So  I  proposed  to  make  Dorothy  my  wife, 
knowing  no  one  would  dare  whisper  a  word  against 
her  as  Mrs.  Custis.  Marriage,  you  know,  covers  a 
multitude  of  sins — legalizes  and  sanctifies  a  lot  of  lust. 
But  tell  me:  Where  did  Dorothy  go  on  leaving 
Charlottesville?  She  did  not  drift  at  once  into  a  career 
of  shame?" 

"No.  It  was  not  until  months  after  Custis  was 
born,  not  until  there  was  no  other  way  for  her  save 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH    45 

suicide,  that  she  adopted  the  wanton's  course.  She 
went  from  Charlottesville  to  Danville,  where  she  had 
an  uncle,  who,  she  thought,  would  take  her  in ;  but  the 
news  of  her  downfall  had  preceded  her,  thanks  to  Mrs. 
Hewitt." 

"The  damned  old  wasp !  And  the  poor  child  was 
turned  away?  Her  virtuous  uncle  couldn't  harbor  a 
creature  so  unclean?" 

"Yes  ;  she  was  tvirned  away." 

"And  then?" 

"She  went  to  work  in  a  cotton  factory  in  the 
town ;  but  her  condition  soon  excited  suspicion  and  she 
was  discharged." 

"Oh,  God !  And  this  in  a  land  overrun  by  people 
going  around  shouting  what  Jesus  has  done  for  them, 
while  they  deny  him  daily  in  their  acts  of  cruelty  and 
heartlessness.  Oh,  the  anguish  of  the  poor  girl !  How 
is  it  that  she  retained  her  reason?" 

"Through  it  all,  she  assures  me,  the  memory  of 
you  sustained  her,  the  micmory  of  your  Godlikeness. 
Her  one  thought  was  of  the  little  one  soon  to  be  born. 
She  wanted  it  to  be  a  boy,  and  to  grow  up  a  man 
like  you." 

"My  poor  little  girl !"  and  the  Doctor's  voice  grew 
soft  and  low  from  a  sense  of  humility.  "I  wish  you 
wouldn't  idealize  me  so,  I  am  a  very  ordinary  fellow 
at  best.  Yet  I  know  what  is  right  and  just !  /  know 
hoiv  to  love!  I  know  hozv  to  feel  for  others,  to  put 
myself  in  another's  place!  Oh,  I  wish  everybody  was 
happy !  I  wish  that  men  everywhere  would  learn  the 
blessedness  of  loving  one  another !  Why  won't  they. 
Nelson,  my  boy?  Why  won't  they?  Can  you  tell  me? 
Why  is  it  they  prefer  to  be  cruel  and  selfish  ?  I  can't 
understand  it.  And  after  her  discharge,  what  did  she 
do?  Or  rather,  what  could  she  do,  poor,  heartbroken, 
friendless  child,  about  to  become  the  mother  of  a  child 
herself?" 

"Fortunately,  she  found  friends  in  an  old  German 


46    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

cobbler  and  his  wife,  w]io,  living  near  the  factory,  had 
learned  of  her  troubles  and  out  of  the  bigness  of 
their  hearts  opened  their  home  to  her." 

"God  bless  them !  Nelson,  who  Avas  that  man  ? 
Who  was  that  woman?  Tell  me  the  names  of  them 
and  all  you  know  of  them.  I  want  to  shake  their 
hands  some  day  and  tell  them  I  love  them." 

"Otto  Heinlein  was  his  name,  and  Gretchen  Hein- 
lein  hers." 

"And  I  would  be  willing  to  bet  that  this  Otto 
Heinlein  had  hardly  a  decent  shirt  to  his  back,  and  he 
would  have  given  that  to  the  poor  devil  who  had 
none  ?" 

"Very  likely.  I  know  this :  He  was  regarded  by 
his  neighbors  as  a  dangerous  man — an  enemy  of  soci- 
ety— because  of  his  revolutionary  socialism." 

"God  bless  these  enemies  of  society !"  cried  Dr. 
Custis,  springing  to  his  feet.  "They  are  usually  men 
who  deny  that  might  makes  right — the  creed  of  devils. 
They  want  to  see  things  more  decent,  humanity  sweeter 
and  tenderer.  God  bless  them,  I  say!  They  are  the 
salt  of  the  earth,  the  saviors  of  the  race.  It  is  they 
who  carry  it  onward.  Jesus  Christ  was  an  enemy  of 
society — the  chief  of  the  glorious  clan — and  for  this 
reason  society  put  him  to  death.  The  early  Christians, 
because  they  stood  for  something,  were  enemies  of 
society.  Hence  the  hatred  of  Nero  and  his  efforts 
to  exterminate  them.  And  it  was  in  the  home  of  this 
old  German  cobbler  and  his  wife — these  humble  disci- 
ples of  Marx — that  the  little  chap  first  opened  his 
eyes  on  this  sad  old  world?" 
,'         "Yes." 

'  Dr.  Custis  strode  across  the  room,  his  gaze  bent 

floorward.  Presently  he  returned  to  where  his  guest 
sat. 

"  'And  there  was  no  room  for  them  in  the  inn,' " 
he  murmured. 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH  47 

"  'And  there  was  no  room  for  them  in  the  inn/  " 
echoed  Nelson,  stirred  by  the  pathos  of  the  thought. 

Here  httle  Custis  romped  into  the  room,  his  cheeks 
pink  ahiiost  to  crimson,  his  hps  divorced  in  joyous 
laughter,  as  Aurehus  bounded  after  him. 

Dr.  Custis  took  him  up  in  his  arms  and  looked 
lovingly  into  his  big  blue  eyes. 

"And  it  v^^as  v/ith  you  as  it  was  with  the  One  of 
old  who  came  that  men  might  have  life  and  life  more 
abundantly,"  he  said.  "There  was  no  room  for  you  in 
the  in'ri,  as  there  was  none  for  Him,  And  you  came, 
too,  on  the  anniversary  of  the  night  He  came.  God 
grant  you  may,  like  Him,  be  an  enemy  of  society, 
refusing  to  compromise  with  the  Pharisaism  of  your 
day  as  He  refused  to  compromise  with  that  of  His.  God 
grant  you  may  love  the  truth  as  He  loved  it,  and  love 
it  so  you  will  count  success,  reputation,  life  itself,  as 
naught  compared  with  it !" 

He  laid  his  lips  on  the  boy's,  and  then  reluctantly 
stood  him  on  the  floor  and  motioned  Aurelius  to  take 
him  back  to  where  they  had  been  playing. 

"And  safely  delivered  of  the  boy,  what  followed?" 
pursued  Dr.  Custis,  as  Aurelius  closed  the  door  behind 
him  and  little  Custis. 

"Poor  Heinlein  died  suddenly  about  two  months 
afterward,  and  as  soon  as  his  widow  could  make  her 
arrangements  she  returned  to  Germany,  having  a  son 
there.  But  she  had  grown  so  fond  of  Dorothy  and 
Custis  she  wept  as  if  her  heart  would  break  because  she 
couldn't  take  them  with  her." 

"And,  alone  again,  the  poor  girl's  lot  was  worse 
than  before,  with  the  child  to  care  for?" 

"Yes,  and  the  fact  that  she  was  a  friend  of  the 
Heinleins  made  it  doubly  difficult  for  her  to  get  any- 
thing to  do." 

"She,  too,  was  branded  as  an  anarchist,  then?" 

Nelson  bowed  assent. 

"And,  at  last,  doubly  adjudged  an  outcast,  she 


48    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

was  driven  to  the  brothel  by  the  bloodhounds  of  society 
—  this  poor,  terror-stricken  doe  with  her  suckling 
fawn?" 

"Yes,  while  the  villain  who  had  wrecked  her  life 
was  winning  his  way  to  success  and  another  woman's 
heart.  The  lady  was  doubtless  ignorant  of  his  crime, 
but  if  she  had  known  of  it  she  w^ould  probably  have 
shrugged  her  shoulders  and  said  it  was  all  the  girl's 
fault.  That  is  woman's  way  in  an  affair  of  the  sort. 
Nine  out  of  ten  women  seem  to  find  a  peculiar  charm 
about  a  man  who  has  betrayed  one  of  their  sex — make 
a  hero  of  him,  in  fact." 

"J^^st  as  they  make,  for  some  inexplicable  reason, 
a  hero  of  the  nonentity  known  as  a  soldier.  His  buttons 
and  braid,  his  very  strut,  seem  to  take  all  the  sense 
out  of  them.  They  can't  see  that  behind  his  loafing 
and  flirting  the  awful,  the  ghastly  business  of  the 
soldier  is  to  murder  his  brother  man,  and  for  no  other 
reason  does  the  soldier  exist." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

"By  the  way,  you  spoke  as  if  you  were  familiar 
to  some  extent  with  Fred's  movements,"  said  Dr. 
Custis,   resuming  the  conversation. 

"All  I  know  is  what  I  read  in  the  papers  last 
week,"  replied  Nelson.    "Didn't  you  read  it  ?" 

"No.  How  did  he  distinguish  himself  this  time? 
Not  by  ruining  another  woman?" 

"No.  Why,  the  papers  were  full  of  it.  Doctor! 
It  was  an  ultra  swell  affair." 

"What  was  it  ?" 

"Why,  his  marriage  to  a  voung  widow  of  New 
York." 

"The  reprobate!  What  right  had  he  to  marry?" 
(A  pause.)  "She  had  money,  of  course — the  woman 
he  married?" 

"Plenty  of  it  from  all  accounts." 

"You  may  rest  assured  of  that,  else  he  wouldn't 
have  been  caught  so  easily.  His  mother,  I  know,  is 
happy,  if  nobody  else  is.  She  is  a  scheming,  avaricious 
old  cat,  whose  one  ambition  was  that  he  should  entrap 
a  woman  of  wealth.  And  who  is  she — this  lady  who 
thinks  she  has  done  such  great  things  in  becoming 
Mrs.  Frederick  Huntington?  A  young  widow,  did 
you  say?" 

"A  young  widow — yes;  only  twenty-three  and 
very  beautiful.     Her  first  husband  lived  only  a  year, 

49 


50    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

leaving  her  with  a  child  about  a  month  old.  She  is  a 
southern  girl,  by  the  way." 

"From  what  part  of  the  South  ?" 

"Virginia.     She  was  brought  up  in  Richmond." 

"Is  that  so?  Perhaps  I  know  her.  What  is,  or 
rather  what  was  her  name?" 

"Mrs.  Yancey — Louise  Yancey." 

"Not  Louise  Pelham?" 

"That  was  the  lady's  maiden  name." 

"A  daughter  of  Colonel  Fairfax  Pelham,  of  Cul- 
peper  ?" 

"Yes.     You  know  her  then?" 

"Some  years  ago  I  knew  her.  We  were  school- 
mates for  a  session.  We  were  more — we  were  sweet- 
hearts, absurdly  in  love  with  each  other.  There  had 
been  no  such  affair  of  the  heart  since  that  of  young 
Montague  and  Miss  Capulet.  We  were  kicls  of  fifteen, 
and  it  all  happened  in  Richmond.  We  were  residing 
there  temporarily,  as  were  the  Pelhams.  A  year  later 
Colonel  Pelham,  with  his  family,  removed  to  New 
York,  where  in  the  course  of  time,  Louise  was  wooed 
and  won  by  young  Yancey,  son  of  a  Wall  Street  mil- 
lionaire. Since  then  I  have  heard  nothing  of  her  until 
to-night.  And  she  is  now  the  wife  of  Fred  Hunt- 
ington ?" 

He  walked  to  his  desk  and  drooped  his  nostrils 
above  a  bunch  of  violets  daintily  envased  there.  After 
awhile  he  walked  back. 

"Yes,  nine  out  of  ten  women  would  have  shrugged 
their  shoulders  and  said  it  was  the  girl's  fault,"  he 
said.  "But  Louise  Pelham  would  have  been  the  excep- 
tion— the  one  who  would  not  have  done  it.  H  she 
knew  of  her  husband's  crime,  of  that  sweet  young  life 
he  had  driven  to  wantonness,  of  that  innocent  little 
youngster  in  the  other  room  whoiu  his  passion  had 
called  into  being — why,  Louise  Pelham  would  turn 
from  him  in  utter  loathing.    Say,  Nelson  can't  we  put 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH  51 

our  heads  together  and  devise  some  way  of  getting  that 
poor  girl  out  of  the  brothel  ?" 

"She  has  not  been  in  one  for  a  year,  Doctor.  I 
rescued  her  from  that  sort  of  existence  as  soon  as  I 
could.  There  are  people,  however,  who  would  say  she 
is  no  better  for  the  change.  They  may  be  right,  but  I 
know  this :  Even  if  we  are  not  married,  I  love  her  and 
feel  a  sacredness  in  our  relations,  shocking  as  they 
might  seem  to  some  good  people.  For  God's  sake,  don't 
misunderstand  me-  I  am  not  opposed  to  marrying  her. 
Believe  me.  Doctor,  I  would  have  made  her  my  wife 
long  before  this  if  she  had  been  willing." 

"She  refuses,  then?" 

"Most  strenuously." 

"Poor  child!  I  understand  her.  Nelson,  I  never 
knew  a  woman  as  unselfish  as  is  that  girl.  She  would 
gladly  go  down  into  the  deepest  degradation  herself 
rather  than  take  advantage  of  your  magnanimity.  You 
are  young — you  are  not  long  out  of  your  teens?" 

"I  am  twenty-two." 

"You  would  be  young  with  a  decade  tacked  on 
to  that.  Yes,  you  are  guilty  of  youth — a  delightful 
thing  to  be  convicted  of,  by  the  way — and  the  warmth, 
the  impulsiveness,  the  generosity  that  go  with  youth 
and  make  it  so  beautiful,  prompt  you  to  rush  in  where 
an  older  man  would  fear  to  tread.  Dorothy,  though 
a  girl  herself,  realizes  this,  and,  while  she  appreciates 
your  love  and  your  desire  to  make  her  your  wife,  she 
is  haunted  by  the  possibility  of  your  deploring  your 
rashness  some  day,  should  she  marry  you." 

"She  argues  in  that  manner — exactly.  And  it 
hurts  me;  I  swear  it  does.  Why  doesn't  a  fellow 
know  as  well  what  he  is  doing  at  twenty-two  as  he 
would  at  twice  that  age?  He  knows,  indeed,  a  great 
deal  better,  for  when  a  man  gets  about  forty-five  he 
has  usually  deteriorated  into  an  old  fossil,  afraid  to 
do  this  or  that,  lest  the  old  Crone  of  Conventionalism 
cut  him." 


52    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

Dr.  Custis  looked  into  the  refined  boyish  face  and 
smiled  indulgently,  affectionately.  He  had  liked  Nelson 
from  the  start ;  he  loved  him  now.  It  was  such  as 
he  who  lashed  humanity  out  of  its  ruts. 

"Why  should  I  tire  of  the  woman  whom  I  love 
more  than  my  own  life?"  asked  Nelson.  "Why  should 
I  ever  reproach  her  with  the  past  ?  Wouldn't  she  have 
as  good  a  right  to  reproach  me  ?" 

"But  the  old  Crone  of  Conventionalism,  as  you 
call  public  opinion,"  laughed  the  Doctor,  "doesn't  look 
at  it  as  you  do,  my  boy.  What  she  regards  as  the 
natural  and  healthy  thing  for  the  man  to  do,  she 
brands  the  woman  as  a  moral  leper  for  doing." 

"And  I  held  that  false  idea,  I  am  ashamed  to  con- 
fess, until  Dorothy  came  into  my  life.  I  thought,  with 
most  people,  that  the  law  of  chastity  was  meant  for 
woman  only,  that  man  was  exempt.  But  when  I  saw 
the  pitiable  condition  to  which  that  lovely,  gentle  girl 
had  been  brought  by  the  perfidy  of  one  of  my  own 
sex,  when  I  looked  upon  that  innocent  little  chap  of 
hers  destined  to  bear  the  brand  of  illegitimacy  all  his 
days,  I  was  all  broken  up — I  became  another  man. 
Do  you  know.  Doctor,  I  look  at  life  differently  from  the 
way  in  which  I  used  to  do?  I  have  ideals  now — high 
ideals — and  I  try  as  best  I  can  to  live  up  to  those 
ideals.  And  I  owe  it  all  to  that  girl,  outcast  as  the 
world  may  deem  her.  Oh,  I  wish  I  could  overcome 
her  sentimentalism — that  is  all  it  is — and  induce  her  to 
marry  me.  I  don't  relish  our  relations  at  present,  and 
yet  I  can't  give  her  up,  I  love  her  so.  And  I  know  she 
likes  me.    I  believe  in  time  she  could — love  me." 

And  he  blushed,  as  if  he  were  claiming  too  much. 

"She  loves  you  already,"  said  Dr.  Custis.  "She 
couldn't  help  it.  And  it  is  her  very  love  for  you  that 
makes  her  hesitate.  She  loves  you  so,  in  her  fine, 
unselfish  way,  that  she  cannot  wreck  your  life,  as  she 
fears  she  might  do  as  your  wife.  It  is  not  that  she 
prefers   to   be   your   mistress.      No!      No!     That   is 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH  53 

more  galling  to  her  than  I  imaghie  it  is  to  yon.  It  is 
simply  that  in  her  splendid  self-effacement  she  would 
entail  untold  shame  upon  herself  rather  than  accept 
an  uplift  at  the  expense  of  the  one  she  loves." 

"But  why  should  I  pose  as  a  saint  and  a  virgin 
when  I  am  neither,  when  I  am  not  a  whit  whiter  than 
she — not  as  white,  in  fact?" 

Nelson  drew  a  series  of  deep  breaths,  looking 
reflectively  upward.  After  a  minute,  he  turned  again 
to  his  host,  his  face  wearing  an  almost  fierce  expression. 

"I  have  vowed  one  thing,"  he  said.  "Should  I 
find  at  any  time  that  she  is  to  become  the  mother  of  a 
child  by  me,  I  will  force  her  to  become  my  wife.  No 
offspring  of  mine  shall  ever  be  denied  my  name  and 
my  love.  I  would  go  through  hell  for  the  child  and 
the  woman  who  bore  it !" 

Dr.  Custis  grasped  Nelson's  hand  and  squeezed 
it  in  the  intensity  of  his  admiration. 

"You  are  a  man  after  my  own  heart,"  he  said. 
"Paul  Nelson,  I  love  you.    Do  you  know  it?" 

"Not  more  than  I  love  you,  Doctor,"  returned  the 
younger  man,  putting  his  arm  about  the  physician's  neck. 

An  exquisite  silence  fell  between  them,  broken 
at  length  by  Dr.  Custis. 

"Paul,  say  to  Dorothy  when  you  go  back  to  her 
that  I  would  love  to  know  that  she  was  your  wife." 

"God  bless  you.  Doctor!"  cried  Nelson,  hugging 
the  physician  outright.  "It  is  settled.  Ere  this  time 
next  week  she  will  be  Mrs.  Nelson." 

"But,  Paul,  you  will  not  take  the  little  chap  from 
me  if — she  marries  you?" 

"Couldn't  you  give  him  up?" 

"I  presume  I'd  have  to,  but  it  would  go  terribly 
hard  with  me.  Really,  Paul,  if  that  boy  were  to  pass 
out  of  my  life,  I  would  not  care  to  live." 

"He  is  yours,  Doctor.  He  shall  not  be  taken  from 
you.  It  is  the  dream — the  passion — of  his  mother's  life 
that  you  should  bring  the  boy  up." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


Am  I  a  soldier  of  the  cross? 

A  follower  of  the  Lamb? 
And  would  I  fear  to  own  His  Ciiuse, 

Or  blush  to  speak  His  name? 

Here  Cindie  ceased  catechising  herself  in  song 
relative  to  her  spiritual  status  and  gazed  curiously 
down  the  road. 

"Hi!  Who  dat  white  man  comin'  heah?"'  she 
exclaimed.  "I  hope  'taint  dat  new  preacher  at  Mt. 
Pisgah.  For  if  it's  him,  and  he  come  both'ing  iVIarse 
Pierre  'bout  'ligion,  he  jes'  well  spar  his  bref.  Marse 
Pierre,  he  all  right.  I  jes'  good  a  Baptis'  as  de  nex' 
one,  but  all  de  niggers  down  at  Shiloh,  wid  Brer  Jasper 
flung  in,  ain't  makin'  Cindie  b'licve  dat  ole  Marster 
ever  gwine  send  Marse  Pierre  to  hell,  good  as  he  is. 
Men  like  him  too  skeerce  in  dis  heah  world,  and  I'm 
thinkin'  Ole  Marster  '11  want  all  of  'em  he  kin  scrape 
up  to  keep  him  company.  He  gwine  be  lonesome  'nough 
even  den,  he'll  scrape  up  so  few." 

With  which  heretical  thoughts,  the  old  woman 
rose  and  put  into  the  refrigerator  the  strawberries  she 
had  just  finished  sugaring  for  supper. 

Meanwb.ile  the  horseman,  whose  coming  had  dis- 
sipated her  spiritual  anxiety  for  the  time,  was  shout- 
ing : 

"Howdy,  Aunt  Cindie?" 

"Howdy,  yo'sef,"  she  responded,  as  she  turned 

54 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH     55 

and  descended  the  porch  steps.  "But,  'fo'  Gawd,  man, 
I  dunno  you  funi  Adam !" 

"Don't  know  me!    You  are  bhnd  then!" 

"No  bhnder'n  you  is,"  moving  closer  and  giving 
him  a  searching  look.  "Lawd  Gawd!"  breaking  into 
a  laugh  of  recognition.  "If  'taint  Ben  Hardie !  Whar 
yo'  come  fum,  boy?  If  you  don't  git  off  dat  boss, 
asottin'  up  dar  like  you  some  gin'ral,  I'll  knock  you 
sprawlin'  over  dar  in  dat  patch  of  sheep  mint!  You 
speckle-faced  devil,  you !" 

"I  know  now  you  are  blind,"  returned  Ben.  "I 
haven't  half  the  freckles  I  had  when  I  was  a  boy." 

"Whar  dey  gone  to  ?  Dey  all  dar  yit.  Look  heah  ! 
Bin  seven  yeah  mos'  sense  you  went  out  West,  ain't  it?" 

"Seven  years  yesterday.  I  left  the  day  papa  was 
married,  you  know." 

He  sprang  from  his  horse. 

"You  ain't  married,  is  you?"  asked  Cindie. 

"No ;  can't  get  a  girl  to  have  me." 

"Look  heah,  boy !  Ain't  you  never  gwine  stop 
yo'  lyin'?  You  knows  dar  ain't  no  man,  I  don't  keer 
how  freckly  he  is,  whar  some  fool  'oman  won't 
jump  at." 

"It  is  evident  you  don't  like  freckles." 

"Don't  mind  de  way  I  talk,  honey.  I  mouty  glad 
to  see  you.  I  sot  a  pow'ful  sto'  by  yo'  mother.  She 
was  one  righteous  'oman  if  Gawd  ever  made  one.  I 
dunno  much  'bout  yo'  pa's  second  wife." 

"She  is  not  a  bad  woman.  I  want  a  drink  of 
water." 

He  seized  the  gourd  hanging  beside  the  well, 
plunged  it  into  the  bucket  of  freshly-drawn  water,  and 
hurried  it  to  his  lips,  draining  every  drop. 

"Ah,  that  was  good — the  best  drink  of  v/ater  I've 
had  in  years,"  he  said,  smacking  his  lips.  "There  is 
no  water  in  Goochland  like  it.  It  goes  right  to  the 
spot  on  a  warm  day  like  this.  Where's  the  Doctor?" 
he  asked,  as  they  moved  toward  the  porch. 


56    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"He  went  to  dc  courthouse  yestiddy  and  ain't  got 
back  yit." 

"Did  Custis  go  with  him?" 

"No ;  he  round  de  place  somewhars.  He  was  out 
dar  on  de  grass  awhile  ago  readin',  but  jes'  now  he 
sauntered  oil'  to  see  if  he  couldn't  git  a  sight  of  Marse 
Pierre.  He  looks  like  he  dunno  what  to  do  wid  hissef 
when  Marse  Pierre  ain't  heah.  Is  you  ever  noticed 
a  little  chicken  whar.  done  strayed  off  fum  de  ole  hen, 
how  de  little  creter  walk  round  wid  his  head  hild  way 
up  in  de  ar,  won't  peck  at  nuffin  'tall  to  eat  an'  chirpin' 
so  pitiful  and  lonesome-like?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  dat's  de  way  de  chile  ac'  when  Marse  Pierre 
go  'way  for  a  night  or  two.  And  you  done  noticed, 
ain't  you,  how  dat  same  little  chicken  will  pearten  up 
all  on  a  sudd'n  when  he  heah  de  ole  hen  cluck  some- 
whars nigh,  and  how  he'll  flop  his  little  wings  and  fly 
fit  to  break  his  neck  to  his  mother,  makin'  all  sorts  of 
low,  cooin'-like  noises,  like  he  so  happy  'cause  he  done 
found  de  ole  hen  agin?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  dat's  de  way  'tis  wid  de  chile  when  Marse 
Pierre  come  back.  And  Marse  Pierre  he  badder  dan 
de  chile  is.  Dc  fust  thing  he  want  to  know  when  he 
come  in  is  'Whar  Custis?'  and  when  he  fine  de  chile 
he  smile  like  he  done  got  all  he  want  in  dis  world  or  dc 
nex',  for  dat  matter.  I  ain't  never  seed  two  folks  so 
wrop  up  in  each  other  as  dem  two  is  sense  Gawd 
made  me." 

"The  love  between  them  is  the  most  beautiful  thing 
I  have  ever  known,"  said  Ben,  tears  in  his  eyes. 
"Mamma  used  to  say  that  nothing  did  her  so  much 
good  as  to  hear  the  Doctor  say  'son'  in  speaking  to 
the  boy  or  'the  little  chap'  in  speaking  of  him.  He 
could  throw  such  love  into  the  words,  as  if  he  could 
suffer  anything  for  the  lad." 

"He  would,  too.     li  anything  was  to  happen  to 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH  57 

dat  boy  you'd  have  to  bury  Alarse  Pierre  wid  him. 
I  ain't  beHevin'  nutlin  'tall  else.  But  I  'spec'  'twould  be 
de  same  way  wid  dis  nigger,  'cause  I  ain't  never  love 
nobody  like  I  loves  dat  boy.  When  he  sez  to  me, 
'Mammy,  please  do  dis  or  please  do  dat  for  me,  won't 
you?'  and  look  at  me  outen  dem  paradise  blue  eyes 
of  hisn,  so  pleadin'  and  innocent-like,  I  jes'  go  'long 
and  does  it  like  de  no-sense  nigger  I  is.  I  jes'  ain't 
got  no  use  of  my  will  whar  dat  boy  is.  He  sorter 
memorizes  me." 

"Hypnotizes  you,"  suggested  Ben. 

'T  dunno  what  you  calls  it.  And  Reuben  he  mos' 
big  fool  as  me,  while  dat  yaller  nigger  'Relius,  he'd 
gin  de  las'  drap  of  blood  he  got  for  de  chile.  But  how 
kin  you  he'p  lovin'  him?  You  'bleeged  to  love  him," 
she  added,  as  if  some  sort  of  apology  were  necessary 
for  such  reckless  adoration.  "Yas,  suh,  you  'bleeged 
to  love  dat  chile.  He  de  sweetest  thing  I  knows  wdiar 
Ole  Marster  ever  puffed  bref  into,  and  he  go  'long, 
he  do,  jes'  like  he  ain't  diskivered  dat  he  so  sweet. 
Nuffin  'tall  don't  spile  him.  He  don't  hole  his  head 
'bove  nobody;  ain't  nobody  whar  he  thinks  is  as  bad 
as  dey  is.  And  den  he  so  'spectful  and  kind-like  to 
everylDody,  niggers  same  as  white  folks.  He  don't  ac' 
like  he  thought  udder  folks  was  made  to  wait  on  him, 
but  he'll  run  his  legs  off  to  wait  on  anybody  whar  ax 
any  favor  of  him.  Dar  ain't  narry  drap  of  mean  blood 
in  his  veins — narry  selfish  bone  in  his  body.  He'd  gin 
de  las'  thing  he  got  away,  he  so  free-hearted.  He 
jes'  like  IMarse  Pierre.  Shew  out  heah,  chicken !"  turn- 
ing belligerently  upon  a  fine  young  cock  of  Plymouth 
Rock  strain  that  had  ventured  upon  the  porch.  "Shew 
out  heah,  you  sassy  dominecker  devil  you !  Ain't  dar 
room  aplenty  outside  for  you  wad  all  de  land  we  got? 
'Pears  to  me  dar  is.  You  warn't  born  heah  nohow,  and 
yit  you  strut  round  on  yo'  two  legs  and  crow  like  de 
whole  plantation  'long  to  you,  like  you  done  bought  and 
paid  for  it  outen  yo'  own  pocket.     If  you  don't  stop 


58  REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

yo'  siirancified  doing's  I'll  have  you  fryin'  on  de  fire 
'fo'  you  know  it,  I  don't  keer  what  yo'  young  marster 
sez." 

"Is  that  young  rooster  one  of  Custis's  pets?" 
"Dey  all  his  pets.  He  won't  let  none  of  'em  be 
kilt.  I  done  mos'  forgot  how  chicken  taste,  it  bin  so 
long  sense  I  eaf  any.  You  know  whar  he  got  dat 
rooster  fum?  Him  and  Marse  Pierre  was  at  de  store 
de  udder  day  when  some  little  nigger  come  in  wid  dat 
chicken  to  trade  it  off  for  coffee  and  sugar,  and  Custis 
he  ups  and  buys  de  rooster  and  brung  him  home,  like 
de  place  warn't  overrun  wid  he-chickens  already.  I 
knows  dar's  twenty  or  more  'bout  heah.  He  ain't 
satisfied  wid  turnin'  out  all  de  pullets,  he  warn't  to  turn 
out  all  de  roosters  too.  He  don't  want  to  see  narry 
chicken  kilt,  pullet  or  rooster.  'Lawdy,  honey,'  sez  I, 
'if  you  don't  kill  off  some  dese  roosters,  every  hen'll 
have  a  husband  by  herself  arter  awhile.'  'Well,'  sez 
he,  laughing  in  his  music-like  way,  'ain't  dat  de  way 
folks  do?'  'But  chickens  ain't  folks,'  sez  I.  'Chickens 
is  Mormons,  natchel-bawn  Mormons,  dey  is,  and  you 
can't  change  'em,  and  as  for  eatin'  'em,'  sez  I,  'dar 
ain't  nuffin  'tall  wrong  'bout  dat.  What  you  reckon 
Ole  Marster  make  chickens  and  turkeys  and  sheep 
and  hogs  and  ole  bars  for  if  't warn't  for  folks  to  eat 
'em?'  He  look  at  me  solemn-like  outen  his  blue  eyes, 
and  I  know  he  gwine  say  somefin  presently  to  knock 
me  sprawlin'  on  de  ground.  'Dat's  what  de  cannibal 
think  too,'  sez  he,  'when  a  missionary  or  'splorer  come 
cross  his  paf?'  Dat  sent  me  sprawlin,  sho'  'nough, 
but  I  got  up  agin.  'Yes,  honey,'  I  went  on,  'de  Lawd 
he  put  all  dese  dumb  crctcrs  heah  for  us  to  eat.'  De 
chile  he  look  at  me  lofty-like.  'When  did  de  Lawd  tell 
you  dat,  mammy?'  sez  he,  widout  crackin'  a  smile. 
I  looked  at  Marse  Pierre,  who  sot  hidin'  his  face  'hind 
a  paper,  and  bitin'  his  lips  to  keep  fum  laughin'.  But 
I  wouldn't  let  my  eend  of  de  log  drap  yit,  so  I  up  and 
'mind  him  how  de  'Postle  Peter  was  commanded  in  a 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH     59 

vision  to  rise  up  and  slay  and  eat  de  beasts  of  de 
field,  de  fowls  and  de  fishes.  I  thoughts  sho  I  got  him 
dar,  but  what  yo'  reckon  he  sez?  'Oh,  dat  was  only 
one  of  Peter's  dreams,'  sez  he.  'I  reckon  de  'postle 
et  too  much  flesh  de  night  'fo'  and  was  suff'rin'  fum 
indigestion  when  he  had  dat  dream.'  Marse  Pierre 
couldn't  keep  in  no  longer  and  I  make  sho'  he'd  laugh 
hissef  to  death." 

"Custis  isn't  fond  of  hunting  then  ?"  said  Ben. 

"No,  Lawd !  Now  and  den  some  man  whar's 
bin  out  hunting  will  drap  by  de  house  wid  a  pa'tridge 
or  ole  har  he  done  kilt.  De  chile'll  smooth  de  dead 
thing  down  and  den  he  walk  off.  He  don't  say  nuffin, 
but  he  look  so  grieved,  like  he  can't  see  how  men  folks 
find  fun  killin'  things.  But  he  ain't  no  gal  boy !  He 
ain't  nuffin  like  dat.  Marse  Pierre  done  look  arter 
dat.  He  bin  'velopin'  de  boy  tell  he  got  him  stronger 
dan  one  ox.  De  muscle  whar  dat  chile's  got  on  him — 
well,  'tis  a  muscle  you  read  about.  Ain't  narry  boy 
anywhars  round  heah  got  de  likes  of  it,  and  Marse 
Pierre  he  so  sinful  proud  of  it  he  wants  to  show  it  to 
everybody  he  see.  What  you  reckon  dat  man  done 
las'  fall  when  him  and  de  chile  went  down  to  de  State 
Fair?" 

"Put  the  boy  on  exhibition  as  the  Virginia 
Sandow  ?" 

"He  had  de  chile's  pitcher  took  mos'  start  naked, 
so  as  to  show  off  de  grace  and  cemetery  of  his  figger. 
All  de  chile  had  on  was  somefin  wropped  round  heah," 
indicating  the  region  of  the  loins.  "I  wish  you  could 
aseed  ole  Miss  'Ria  Warrick  Vv'hen  IMarse  Pierre 
showed  her  dat  likeness.  She  screamed  like  you  done 
kilt  her.  She  make  like  it  was  horrid,  but  Marse  Pierre 
he  laugh  and  sez  'twas  beautiful,  dat  it  look  like  de 
pitcher  of  a  young  gawd.  Hi !  Dar  comes  Marse 
Pierre  now!" 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"You  scamp !  You  prodigal !  I  can't  tell  you 
how  delig-lited  I  am  to  see  you  again,"  said  Dr.  Custis, 
still  holding  his  visitor's  hand  after  their  embrace  on 
meeting.       "Weren't  you  glad  to  see  him,  mammy?" 

"What  I  glad  for,  arter  he  rund  off  fum  his  friends 
and  kinfolks  like  he  done  and  stay  away,  all  dese  yeahs? 
He  mout  staid  de  balance  of  his  life  for  all  I  keer." 

The  men  laughed. 

"And  you  are  back  in  Mrginia — have  a  position 
in  Richmond?"  said  Dr.  Custis.  "Homesick,  were 
you  ?" 

"Homesick  isn't  the  word.  There  were  times  that 
I  thought  I  would  die,  I  longed  to  be  back  in  \'irginia 
so.  And  there  was  no  face  I  longed  to  see  as  I  ditl 
yours,  Doctor — no  voice  I  longed  to  hear  as  I  did 
yours.  To  have  heard  you  say  damned  in  your  virile 
way  when  you  get  righteously  indignant  —  why.  I 
would  have  been  willing  to  die  the  moment  after. 
Say,  Doctor,  you  don't  grow  old  at  all!  You  look 
as  you  did  ten  years  ago — like  a  big,  beardless  boy." 

"Why  shouldn't  I  look  like  a  boy  when  I  feel  like 
one?  My  blood  is  pure,  my  digestion  good,  my  sleep 
sound.  I  manage  to  keep  out  of  debt  and  try  to 
treat  everybody  decently.  More  than  all  else,  the 
little  chap  is  still  with  me,  making  the  years  one  per- 
petual Maytime.  He  is  all  he  promised  to  be,  and 
more.    Where  is  he,  mammy?" 

60 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH  6i 

"Out  somewhars  lookin'  for  you,  but  you  didn't 
come  back  by  de  county  road,  did  you  ?" 

"No,  by  way  of  Haddon's.  So  I  missed  him. 
But  he'll  show  up  presently.  He  knows  I  wouldn't 
remain  from  home  another  night  when  we  are  going 
to  Richmond  to-morrow." 

"To  the  reinterment  of  Jeff  Davis?"  asked  Ben. 

"Yes.  I  don't  care  about  it,  but  Custis  wants  to 
go.  By  the  way,  I  presume  you  have  learned  of  my 
political  apostasy?" 

"Of  your  joining  the  People's  Party?  Yes,  I 
read  about  it  in  the  Richmond  papers,  and  that  you 
would  likely  be  the  joint  nominee  of  the  Populists 
and  Republicans  for  the  State  Senate." 

"That's  a  lie.  I  may  accept  the  nomination  of 
the  Populists  if  they  insist  upon  it,  but  to  accept  a 
nomination  from  carpet-baggers  and  scalawags — never 
in  the  world !  You  know  me  too  well  to  believe  such 
a  thing  of  me,  Ben  Hardie?" 

"Of  course,  I  do." 

"All  this  talk  of  fusion  between  the  People's  Party 
and  the  Republicans  is  deliberate  lying  on  the  part  of 
the  Bourbon  press.  How  can  two  parties  holding,  as 
they  do,  antipodal  views  on  economics — the  one  the 
avowed  champion  of  the  money  power,  the  other  in 
open  revolt  against  it — how  can  two  such  parties  unite  ? 
You  were  not  surprised,  then,  when  you  read  of  my 
having  left  the  party  of  my  fathers?" 

"Not  at  all.  I  had  known,  from  your  letters,  of 
your  disgust  for  the  negative,  improgressive  policy 
of  the  Democratic  party;  of  your  contempt  for  the 
Republican  party,  both  for  its  unsavory  record  in 
reconstruction  days  and  for  its  subserviency  to  the 
money  power  to-day.  So  it  was  only  natural  that 
you  should  identify  yourself  with  the  new  party  which 
embodies  your  ideas." 

"I  am  not  satisfied  with  that — far  from  it.  For 
one  thing,  I  take  little  stock  in  the  free  coinage  of 


62    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

silver.  We  must  go  deeper  than  any  such  questions 
as  gold  or  silver,  protection  or  free  trade.  We  must 
socialize  the  trusts,  now  such  gigantic  engines  of 
oppression  in  private  hands — not  smash  them,  as  some 
well-meaning  reformers  would  do.  The  better  way, 
and  the  only  sane  way,  is  for  the  people  to  take  them 
over  into  their  own  hands  and  operate  them  for  the 
benefit  of  all,  instead  of  allowing  a  few  individuals  to 
pile  up  vast  unearned  wealth  for  themselves  and  de- 
scendants. For  the  present  I  am  with  the  Populists, 
because  I  think  I  can  see  in  the  movement  an  awaken- 
ing of  the  people — a  force  making  for  radicalism  and 
ultimately  for  revolution." 

"You  talk  like  a  Socialist,  Doctor !" 

'T  am  one,  and  if  there  were  a  sane  Socialist  party 
in  the  country  I  would  join  it  without  a  day's  delay. 
Until  such  a  party  appears  I  will  work  with  the  one 
that  comes  nearest  my  ideas.  The  People's  Party, 
because  of  the  radicals  and  socialists  in  its  ranks,  may 
evolve  into  a  real  Socialist  party ;  but  if  it  goes  back- 
ward or  allows  itself  to  be  absorbed  by  one  or  the 
other  of  the  old  parties,  I  will  at  once  get  out  of  the 
movement.  liello!  Custis  has  been  reading  out 
beside  those  calycanthus  bushes  and  left  his  book  on 
the  grass." 

Dr.  Custis  sprang  down  the  porch  steps,  and, 
returning  in  a  moment  with  the  volume,  remarked : 

"Emerson's  Essays." 

"You  don't  tell  me  that  a  kid  not  yet  fifteen  can 
find  pleasure  in  Emerson?"  exclaimed  l)cn. 

"The  average  boy  docs  not.  Custis  does,  however. 
Yes,  he  is  very  fond  of  Emerson  ;  also  of  Ruskin.  Whit- 
man, Tolstoy,  Drummond  and  other  eminent  worthies. 
You  would  be  surprised  to  see  the  character  of  the 
books  he  reads,  and  he  enjoys  them  thoroughly.  There 
is  no  afTectation  about  it.  The  grasp  he  gets  of  the 
author's  thoughts  is  marvelous.  Frequently  I  come 
across  a  sentence  or  a  paragraph  in  some  book  he  has 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH  6^ 

marked,  and  really  I  am  astonished  at  the  little  chap's 
acnmen  to  penetrate  the  most  subtle  expression  and 
g-et  at  the  heart  of  the  thing,  to  break  into  the  very 
soul  of  the  writer,  as  it  were,  and  to  hold  communion 
with  him.  In  my  necessarily  hurried  perusal  of  most 
books,  there  are  many  thoughts  whose  full  meaning 
eludes  me  at  the  time,  and  it  is  only  when  I  find  them 
afterward  marked  by  Custis  that  I  grasp  their  full 
fineness,  their  real  beauty.  Let  us  see  if  he  has  marked 
anything  in  this  book.  Yes,  here  is  something :  'When 
a  thought  of  Plato  becomes  a  thought  to  me,  when  a 
truth  that  fired  the  soul  of  Pindar  fires  mine,  time  is 
no  more.  When  I  feel  that  we  two  meet  in  a  percep- 
tion, that  our  two  souls  are  tinged  with  the  same  hue, 
and  do,  as  it  were,  run  into  one,  why  should  I  measure 
degrees  of  latitude?  Why  should  I  count  Egyptian 
years?'" 

"Well,  that  takes  the  cake,"  said  Ben.  After 
awhile,  recovering  himself,  he  said : 

"Of  course,  you  have  made  a  Socialist  of  him?" 

"He  thought  himself  into  one.  'Looking  Back- 
ward' is  a  book  that  appealed  to  him  powerfully,  I 
want  him  to  take  up  Karl  Marx,  to  familiarize  himself 
thoroughly  with  his  philosophy,  but  there  is  plenty 
of  time  for  that.  Indeed,  I  would  prefer  his  reading 
less  than  he  does  at  his  age.  Hov/ever,  it  has  done 
him  no  harm.  I  wish  the  little  chap  would  come.  I 
haven't  seen  him  since  yesterday  morning," 

The  Doctor  looked  wistfully  toward  the  orchard, 
where  the  cherries  were  growing  temptingly  red. 

"What  do  you  think  of  all  this  talk  of  negro 
domination,  Doctor?"  asked  Ben,  after  awhile.  "Don't 
you  think  it  all  rot?" 

"I  do.  The  object  is  to  keep  the  working  man 
and  the  farmer  of  the  South  in  the  Democratic  party. 
The  very  people  who  are  loudest  in  theii  cry  against 
negro  supremacy — our  bankers  and  business  men — 
would  be  the  first  to  desert  the  Democratic  party  if  it 


64    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

should  throw  off  the  yoke  of  plutocracy.  If  it  should 
declare  three  years  hence  even  for  so  mild  a  measure 
as  free  coinage  of  silver,  they  would  flop  over  to  the 
Republican  party  by  the  thousands.  Xegro  domina- 
tion would  cease  to  frighten  them,  and  the  'nigger' 
party  would  lose  all  its  repulsiveness.  Profits  and 
interest  would  overshadow  all  else.  Custis  is  coming! 
Let  me  hide." 

The  physician  sprang  into  the  house  to  conceal 
himself,  and  the  negro  question  for  the  time  was  for- 
gotten, as  the  boy's  voice,  delicious  as  a  bird's,  floated 
up  from  the  clover  pasture : 

0  sometimes  gleams  upon  my  sight 
Through  present  wrong  the  eternal  right, 
And  step  by  step  since  time  began 

1  see  the  steady  gain  of  man; 
That  all  of  good  the  past  hath  had 
Remains  to  make  our  own  time  glad; 
Our  common,  daily  life  divine, 

And  every  land  a  Palestine. 


CHAPTER  X. 


Custis  sprang  up  the  porch  steps,  hke  the  sweep 
of  a  perfimied  wind,  his  cheeks,  his  hps  hot  with  the 
hue  of  health. 

"Mammy,  I  can't  see  anything  of  him,"  he  said, 
plaintively,  rushing  to  Cindie,  oblivious  of  the  presence 
of  young  Hardie. 

"Can't  you,  darling?"  she  said,  affecting  a  tone 
of  sympathy,  "I  lay  one  dem  ole  courthouse  gals  done 
rund  off  wid  yo'  Unc'  Pierre." 

He  lifted  his  eyes  in  mild  surprise  that  she  should 
treat  the  matter  with  such  levity,  and,  without  answer- 
ing, turned  and  faced  Ben,  wdio  had  risen  on  his  coming 
and  stood,  smiling,  with  outstretched  hand. 

"Good  evening,  sir,"  said  the  boy,  flushing.  "Par- 
don me ;  I  didn't  see  you  before." 

"Why,  Custis,  don't  you  know  me?" 

"How  de  chile  gwine  to  know  you  when  he  ain't 
sot  eyes  on  you  for  seven  yeah?"  broke  in  the  irre- 
pressible Cindie.  "You  didn't  have  all  dat  fox  bresh 
sottin'  on  yo'  top  lip  like  you  got  dar  now,  and  de 
chile  he  warn't  nufiin  but  a  baby,  you  mout  say,  when 
you  took  up  dat  fool  notion  to  run  off  to  Chick-kagger." 

"Oh,  I  know  you  now !"  exclaimed  Custis.  "You 
are  Mr,  Ben  Hardie,  aren't  you?" 

"You  are  mistaken." 

The  boy  looked  embarrassed. 

"Pardon  my  blunder,"  he  said,  "I  thought  you 

65 


(£  REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

were  he,  from  what  mammy  said.     If  you  are  not,  I 
must  confess  I  have  no  idea  who  you  are." 

And  he  shook  his  head  slowly,  mortifiedly,  as  if 
he  thought  it  very  stupid  on  his  part. 

Ben  broke  into  a  laugh. 

"I  may  be  Mr.  Ben  Hardic  to  some  people,  but  not 
to  anybody  at  Holly  Hill,"  he  said.  "You  used  to  call 
me  Ben  when  you  were  a  little  shaver  in  kilts,  and 
there  is  no  reason  why  you  shouldn't  do  it  now." 

And  dropping  back  into  his  chair,  he  drew  the 
stalwart  youngster  down  in  his  lap  as  he  used  to  do  in 
the  old  days. 

"Aren't  you  going  to  kiss  me?" 

"Certainly,  if  you  want  me." 

And  the  affectionate  lad  gave  Ben  the  desired  kiss. 

"My!  What  a  robust  kid!  Aunt  Cindie  has  just 
been  telling  me  of  your  Uncle  Pierre's  training  you  to 
knock  John  L.  out." 

"I  ain't  tole  him  nuffin  of  de  sort,  honey,"  retorted 
Cindie,  looking  up  from  her  task  of  breaking  ice  for 
supper.  "Don't  you  believe  narry  word  dat  liar  tell 
you.  He  makin'  up  dat  yarn  as  he  go  'long,  dat  what 
he  doin'.  All  I  tole  him  was  'bout  the  ungawdly 
muscle  whar  you  done  'veloped." 

"Is  that  all  you  told  me?  You  didn't  tell  me 
how  that  picture  taken  in  Garden  of  Eden  costume 
came  near  frightening  St.  Maria  to  death?" 

"You  mean  my  picture?"  asked  Custis.  and  he 
laughed  dcliciously,  disclosing  teeth  as  white  as  the 
snowljalls  blossoming  beside  the  porch  steps.  "It  was 
funny  to  see  how  Cousin  Maria  did  when  Uncle  Pierre 
showed  it  to  her.  You  ought  to  have  seen  him  laugh. 
He  declared  he  gained  three  pounds,  he  laughed  so." 

"Dat  was  all  put  on  wid  ole  IMiss  'Ria."  grunted 
Cindie.  ".She  soon  got  over  it,  and  she  don't  never 
come  hcah  now  dat  she  don't  look  at  dat  likeness.  She 
sots  a  pow'ful  sto'  by  dat  chile,  T  mus'  say.  to  do  de 
'oman  jcstice.     She  don't  think  dar's  anuddcr  boy  like 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH  (yy 

him  in  de  world.  She  kiss  him  and  kiss  him  tell  dar 
ain't  no  sense  in  it." 

"Cruel  Caesar!  Miss  Maria  Warrick  gone  to 
kissing  in  her  old  age!"  cried  Ben.  "And  one  of  the 
trousered  species  at  that!  What  is  the  world  com- 
ing to?" 

"You  mout  ax  dat.  She  'scuse  herse'f  by  savin' 
she  'bleeged  to  kiss  de  chile,  he  so  sweet,  she  scz.  'He 
de  mos'  pufl'ec  little  gen'man  whar  she  ever  seed,'  she 
sez  to  everybody.  Now,  dat's  a  whole  passel  of  praise 
fum  ole  Miss  'Ria,  'siderin'  de  chile  he  ain't  never 
bin  circumcised  in  de  'Piscopalin  Church." 

"Why,  I  didn't  knov/  the  Episcopal  Church  prac- 
ticed the  rite  of  circumcision,"  said  Ben,  laughing 
uproariously. 

"She  means  I  haven't  been  confirmed,"  explained 
Custis. 

"Dat's  what  I  mean,  honey.  Dat's  what  mammy 
means,  but  dat  fool  dar  had  to  laugh  like  he  ain't  got 
no  sense." 

"I  wish  Uncle  Pierre  would  come !"  sighed  Custis, 
looking  longingly  down  the  road. 

Then,  his  eyes  falling  on  the  Doctor's  hat,  he 
cried  gleefully :  "Uncle  Pierre  is  here  !  Plere's  his  hat ! 
Where  is  he,  mammy?" 

And,  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  he  sprang 
from  Ben's  legs  and  rushed  into  the  house. 

Dr.  Custis  emerged,  laughing  softly,  from  his 
hiding  place.  He  stood,  with  folded  arms,  awaiting 
the  return  of  the  boy.  Soon  the  loved  footfalls  were 
heard  returning,  and  presently  he  felt  the  warmth  of 
two  young  arms  around  his  neck,  the  pressure  of  two 
young  lips  on  his. 

"Say,  Ben,  do  you  remember  the  night  this  kid 
arrived  in  these  parts  ?"  said  the  Doctor,  his  arm  still 
around  the  youngster. 

"Do  I?  I  remember  no  night  in  all  my  life  so 
well.     But  didn't  the  snow  come  down  that  night? 


68  REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

Remember  the  good  time  we  had — you  and  papa  and  I 
— while  )'0U  were  waiting  for  the  train.  After  we 
closed  store  papa  made  some  eggnog  and  mamma  gave 
us  one  of  her  Christmas  pound-cakes.  You  and  I 
didn't  do  a  thing  to  that  cake,  did  we  ?  Let's  see.  That 
was  twelve  years  ago  last  Christmas.  You  have  grown 
some  in  that  time,  Custis,"  turning  to  the  lad. 

"A  little,  I  believe,"  was  the  answer. 

*T  want  you  to  see  what  a  magnificently  developed 
youngster  he  is,  Ben,"  said  Dr.  Custis.  "Show  Ben 
your  arms,  son." 

"What  I  tole  you,  Ben  Hardie?"  cried  Cindie, 

Custis  started  to  roll  up  his  sleeve  when  the  physi- 
cian stopped  him. 

"Take  your  sweater  off,"  he  said.  "I  want  him 
to  see  your  chest,  your  back,  your  arms — all." 

The  boy  removed  his  jersey,  baring  himself  to  the 
waist. 

"Cruel  Caesar!"  exclaimed  Ben,  in  genuine  admi- 
ration. "He  is  a  peach !  Why,  Doctor,  I  never  saw 
a  boy  of  his  age  so  splendidly  developed  !  God  !  W' hat 
arms  !    What  biceps  !    Custis,  you  are  a  marvel,  boy  !" 

"The  girth  of  his  biceps  is  I2j4  inches,  while  that 
of  his  forearm  is  10^4  inches,"  said  the  physician. 
"Now,  look  at  his  chest.    It  is  nearly  35  inches." 

"Thirty-four  and  three-quarters,"  said  the  lad. 

"The  girth  of  his  neck  is  133^,"  continued  the 
Doctor.  "Observe  the  strength  of  it !  Now.  examine 
his  thighs.  His  girth  of  thigh  is  1934  inches,  his  girth 
of  waist  275^,  and,"  reaching  downward,  "that  of  his 
calf  14%  inches.  Think  of  it!  I  am  confident  you 
couldn't  find  a  boy  of  his  age — he  will  not  be  fifteen 
until  Christmas,  remember — more  perfectly  developed 
if  you  were  to  search  the  land  over.  You  can  get  into 
your  sweater  again,  son.  We  are  done  inspecting 
your  fine  points." 

And.  slapping  the  youngster  on  the  back,  he  turned 
to  Ben  and  said : 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH  69 

"Would  you  believe  it  that  he  knows  as  well  as  I 
how  he  is  constructed,  how  fearfully  he  is  made  ?  Noth- 
ing that  he  should  know  have  I  withheld,  from  a  sense 
of  mistaken  modesty.  Jealous  of  outside  influences, 
I  have  seen  to  it  that  he  got  no  perverted  view  of 
truths ;  that  the  knowledge  of  the  sexual  function  was 
revealed  to  him  by  no  vulgar  or  unclean  mind,  as  it 
is  to  most  boys,  and  in  many  instances,  to  their  undo- 
ing. I  have  impressed  upon  him  the  sacredness  of 
procreation,  and  in  a  way  that  has  done  no  violence 
to  his  sensibilities,  but,  on  the  contrary,  developed  in 
him  a  manly,  robust  modesty  that  is  rare  indeed.  Yes, 
I  have  had  him  to  sit  at  my  feet  from  his  infancy  up ; 
I  have  told  him  all  the  things  he  should  know ;  I  have 
shown  him  all  the  pitfalls  into  which  ignorance  might 
have  flung  him,  poor  little  chap ;  and  the  result  is  that 
he  is  approaching  puberty  untainted  by  any  secret  vice, 
his  organs  all  beautifully  developed,  his  mind  the 
home  of  the  whitest  thoughts.  He  is  coming  to  his 
manhood  like  a  white  rose  unfolding.  Aren't  you, 
son?" 

"You — you  know,"  said  the  boy,  modestly.  "All 
that  I  am  I  owe  to  you." 

And  in  the  greatness  of  his  love  he  laid  his  cheek 
up  against  the  physician's  and  smiled  as  though  earth 
held  nothing  half  so  dear  to  him  as  this  quickened, 
virile  Bourbon,  who  had  been  to  him  "father,  mother, 
friend,  everything." 

"You  have  succeeded  in  making  of  him  an  athlete, 
a  student  and  an  altruist,"  said  Ben,  after  awhile. 
"Now,  what  are  you  doing  for  him  musically?" 

"I  lay  he  want  to  sell  you  a  new  pianny,"  said 
Cindie. 

Ben  flushed,  not  relishing  the  thrust. 

"Well,  I  am  doing  all  I  can  for  him,  back  in  the 
woods  as  we  are,"  answered  Dr.  Custis.  "Miss  Lydia 
Vv^'oodson  has  been  giving  him  lessons  on  the  piano 
for  two  years,  and  she  reports  satisfactory  progress." 


70    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

Ben  looked  on  the  floor,  then  up  at  the  porch 
ceiling". 

"Doctor,"  he  began,  embarrassedly,  "surely  you 
will  not  think  I  came  to  Holly  Hill  to  try  to  sell  you  a 
piano  ?" 

"I  never  dreamed  of  such  a  thing,  Ben.  You  are 
not  hurt  by  mammy's  words  ?  You  came  to  see  us,  of 
course — the  little  chap  and  me ;  all  of  us,  in  fact." 

"Yes,  I  did,"  returned  the  young  piano  and  organ 
drummer.  "I  came  because  I  have  always  loved  you 
so ;  came  to  see  Custis,  came  to  see  Aunt  Cindie.  But," 
he  added,  falteringly,  "I  thought  if  you  needed  a  new 
piano  for  Custis,  I  could  do  better  by  you  than  a 
stranger.    You  don't  think  less  of  me  for  that,  Doctor  ?" 

"Certainly  not,  my  boy.  Nobody  loathes  the  vul- 
gar commercial  system  under  which  we  live  more  than 
I ;  but  we  are  forced  to  do  things  that  outrage  our 
finer  natures,  or  we  should  fall  in  the  struggle.  You 
make  your  living  by  selling  musical  instruments,  and 
if  you  can  sell  an  old  friend  a  piano,  why,  what's 
wrong  about  it?  Knowing  of  your  connection  with 
Mason  &  Harper,  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  inspect 
your  stock  of  pianos  while  in  Richmond." 

"Is  that  so?  Well,  we  have  the  finest  and  most 
up-to-date  pianos  manufactured,  and  nothing  would 
please  me  more  than  to  show  you  our  stock." 

"All  right.  We'll  drop  in  to  see  you  while  in  Rich- 
mond. I  doubt  if  I  am  able  to  buy  a  piano  just  now, 
money  is  so  scarce.  But  if  you  show  me  something  that 
suits  me,  I  presume  I'll  wind  up  by  buying  it.  And 
what  of  it?  I  have  never  yet  regretted  a  dollar  s]-)ent 
upon  the  little  chap.  Indeed,  I  have  come  to  believe 
that  money  could  not  be  better  invested.  I  shall  get 
it  back  some  day,  and  with  big  usury.  I  know  he 
would  never  let  me  sufi'er ;  that  if  I  should  ever  find 
myself  penniless  and  dependent,  he  would  be  my  sup- 
port, my  strength,  my  all.  But  should  society  deny 
him  the  chance  to  show  what  is  in  him,  should  the 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH    71 

unscrupulous  crowd  him  to  the  wall,  because  he  has 
in  him  none  of  their  cunning — why,  it  will  be  all  the 
same  to  his  Uncle  Pierre."' 

Here  he  drew  the  boy  up  in  his  arms. 

"Uncle  Pierre  knows  all  that  is  in  him,  all  the 
sweetness,  all  the  grandeur  of  him,  and  if  they  don't 
give  him  a  chance,  it  will  be  all  right.  We  can  sink 
together,  as  we  have  swam  together,  can't  we,  son?" 

For  answer  the  youngster  lifted  his  eyes  running 
over  with  tears  to  the  face  he  loved  above  all  others, 
and  laid  on  his  lips  the  dear,  big  hand  that  had  been 
to  him  as  the  hand  of  God. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

The  obsequies  were  over ;  the  remains  of  Jefferson 
Davis,  brought  from  Mississippi,  had  been  committed 
to  permanent  sepulture  in  the  capital  of  the  dead  Con- 
federacy, and  the  vast  multitude  that  had  gathered  to 
do  honor  to  his  memory  was  slowly  dispersing. 

Dr.  Custis  had  just  met  two  old  friends — one  a 
lawyer  and  Democratic  politician  from  the  Valley  of 
Virginia ;  the  other,  a  well-known  tol^acconist  of  Rich- 
mond. They  had  learned  through  the  papers  of  his 
"conversion  to  Populism,"  and  were  berating  him 
savagely  for  his  political  lunacy. 

"I  thought  it  must  be  a  mistake,  Pierre,"  said  the 
Cleveland  worshiper  from  Shenandoah  County.  "But 
I  reckon  Fll  have  to  believe  it  now  since  your  ov>'n  lips 
have  confirmed  it." 

"Really,"  broke  in  the  manufacturer  of  the  finest 
chewing  tobacco  on  the  market,  if  his  advertisements 
told  the  truth ;  "it  is  beyond  my  comprehension  how 
a  man  of  your  brains  and  good  sense  could  bring  your- 
self to  train  with  such  damned  freaks.  Good  God, 
man !  Do  you  realize  you  are  making  the  mistake  of 
your  life?" 

"You  surely  are,"  agreed  the  wiseacre  from  the 
Valley.  "You  are  throwing  away  your  reputation, 
your  good  name,  if  you  but  knew  it." 

"Well,  I  am  not  the  first  one  who  has  done  it," 
answered  the  j^hysician,  dignifiedly.  "If  I  read  history 
intelligently,   the   little   progress   the   race   has   made 

7» 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH    73 

is  due  alone  to  the  fools  who  were  willing  to  throw 
away  their  reputations,  their  good  names,  for  the  truth 
as  they  saw  it." 

The  tobacconist  sneered. 

"Yes,  that's  the  way  you  damned  cranks  all  talk 
when  somebody  of  balanced  mind  attempts  to  show 
you  your  error.  You  all  imagine  yourselves  a  lot  of 
prophets  and  saviors." 

"A  company  of  little  Jesuses,"  added  the  lawyer, 
coarsely. 

Half-pityingly,  half-contemptuously,  Pierre  Cus- 
tis  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  his  plutocratic 
acquaintances.  And  these  were  the  fellows,  and  men 
like  them — prosperity-coarsened,  success-hardened  vul- 
garians— who  had  the  presumption,  because  they  had 
been  sharp  enough  to  evade  the  Scriptural  injunction 
relative  to  work,  to  think  themselves  of  finer  fibre  than 
those  who  did  the  world's  work  ?  ]\Iore  than  that,  they 
dared  imagine  that  men  envied  them  because  of  their 
gold.     God  knew  he  did  not. 

Here  the  loved  hand  of  Custis  was  laid  gently  on 
his  arm,  and  turning,  he  beheld  the  boy,  whose  love 
he  would  not  have  exchanged  for  all  the  gold  on  earth 
or  in  the  bowels  of  it. 

"Pardon  me,  gentlemen,"  said  the  youth,  lifting 
his  cap.  Then  to  Dr.  Custis :  "Uncle  Pierre,  there  is  a 
little  chap  out  in  the  crowd  who  is  lost  from  his  sister 
and  governess,  and  I  am  going  to  help  him  find  them." 

"^'All  right,  son,"  replied  the  physician.  "I'll  wait 
for  you  here." 

"Gosh!  That's  a  handsome  kid!"  exclaimed  the 
manufacturer  of  chewing  tobacco,  looking  after  the 
boy.    "A  nephew  of  yours,  Pierre?" 

"He  is  nice-looking — devilishly  so,"  conceded  the 
alleged  expounder  of  law  and  equity.  "You  don't  tell 
me  that  such  boys  as  that  can  flourish  on  the  same  soil 
with  Populism  and  sassafras?" 

Meanwhile  Custis  had  returned  to  the  object  of 


74    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

his  solicitude.  He  was  a  fragile  child,  was  the  lost  lad, 
but  his  face  was  singularly  fair  and  sweet,  and  his 
eyes  were  of  the  softest  blue — wondrously  like  the 
eyes  of  Custis. 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad  you've  come  back,"  he  said, 
seizing  Custis's  hand  and  smiling  up  at  him.  "I  was 
afraid  I  had  lost  you,  too." 

"Oh,  no!  I  just  went  to  tell  Uncle  Pierre  that  I 
was  going  with  you,  so  he  wouldn't  be  uneasy  about 
me." 

"It  is  so  kind  of  you,  I  think." 

"Not  at  all.  You  would  do  the  same  for  mc  if 
I  were  lost  in  New  York.  Your  home  is  in  that  city, 
you  told  me?" 

"Yes,  but  I'd  rather  live  in  Richmond.  You  can 
breathe  here.    Hollywood  is  a  beautiful  place,  isn't  it?" 

"It  is  conceded  to  be  the  most  beautiful  cemetery 
in  the  country,  because  of  its  picturesque  location,  its 
natural  beauty.  See  how  it  winds  around  upon  these 
lovely  hills  overlooking  the  river?" 

"You  live  in  Richmond,  of  course?" 

"No,  my  home  is  in  the  country,  about  fifty  miles 
up  on  the  river." 

"That  river — the  James,  vou  mean?" 

"Yes." 

"Where  would  you  rather  live — in  the  country 
or  in  the  city  ?" 

"The  country,  I  think ;  but  I'd  be  happy  anywhere 
with  Uncle  Pierre." 

"Is  your  name  Pierre,  too?" 

"Yes.    What  made  you  think  so?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  just  thought  you  ong^ht  to  be 
named  for  your  imcle,  if  you  love  him  so  much  as  all 
that.     What  is  your  other  name?" 

"Pierre  Custis  Christian  is  my  full  name.  I  am 
called  by  my  middle  name,  Custis.  That's  my  Uncle 
Pierre's  surname." 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH  75 

"I  am  so  glad  to  know  your  name.  Mine  is  Pel- 
ham  Huntington." 

"And  I  am  equally  glad  to  know  yours,  Pelham," 
returned  Custis,  giving  his  companion's  hand,  still 
in  his,  an  affectionate  pressure. 

And  with  this  unconventional  way  of  introducing 
themselves,  they  sauntered  on,  hands  clasped,  as  if  they 
had  sprung  from  the  same  loins  and  the  same  breast 
had  given  them  suck. 

"Let  us  sit  on  that  hillside  and  watch  the  people 
as  they  go  out,"  suggested  Custis,  when  they  had  gone 
a  furlong  or  two.  "Probably  your  sister  and  gover- 
ness will  come  along  after  a  while.  Aren't  you 
thirsty  ?" 

They  had  come  to  a  spring,  and  as  Custis  asked 
the  question  he  immersed  the  unwieldy  iron  dipper 
into  the  water,  and,  drawing  it  forth  full,  gave  it  to 
his  companion  to  drink.  Then  he  slaked  his  own 
thirst,  and,  with  his  arm  around  Pelham's  neck,  went 
tip  a  hill  where  the  daisies  caressed  their  knees,  the 
flowers  had  run  up  so  tall  in  their  vigor. 

"We'll  rest  here  and  keep  a  close  watch  upon  the 
crowd,"  said  Custis. 

And  together  the  boys  flung  themselves  down 
among  the  daisies. 

"I  wish  I  lived  in  Richmond  and  you  lived  here, 
too,"  said  the  lad  from  New  York,  falling  deeper  in 
love  with  the  Virginia  youngster  every  moment. 
"Then  I  could  see  you  every  day,  couldn't  I  ?" 

"But  you  might  get  tired  of  me  after  a  while  ?" 

"Tired  of  you?  Never!  Never!  Never!"  re- 
iterated Pelham,  so  earnestly,  so  solemnly,  that  Custis 
laughed  and  hugged  him  out  of  sheer  love,  while  Pel- 
ham nestled  closer  to  the  strong,  handsome  youth, 
his  eyes  bespeaking  perfect  content. 

"I  wish  you  were  my  brother,  Custis !"  he  said. 
"Wouldn't  it  be  lovely?" 


76    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"Nothing  could  be  lovelier,  Pelham.  Have  you 
no  brother?" 

"No,  but  I  have  always  wished  for  one — a  big, 
szveet  boy  that  I  could  love — a  boy  just  like  you.  I 
liate  these  tough,  fresh  kids.  New  York  is  full  of 
them." 

"They  are  everywhere,  Pelham.  Gentle,  manly 
boys  are  in  a  minority,  it  seems," 

"Gentle,  manly  boys !"  repeated  Pelham.  "I  like 
to  hear  those  two  adjectives  used  together.  Father 
never  uses  them  together,  though.  Do  you  know  he 
has  a  lot  to  say  about  manly  boys  where  I  am?  He 
does  it  to  make  me  feel  bad ;  I  know  it.  He  says  he 
does  love  a  manly  boy,  but  he  does  hate  a  Sissy — a  boy 
who  is  forever  hovering  around  women.  That's  meant 
for  me,  because  I  love  mother  and  Virginia  so,  and 
would  rather  be  with  them  any  time  than  with  father. 
He  chills  me,  father  does ;  I  can't  talk  wdiere  he  is, 
somehow.  Why  should  he  think  me  a  Sissy,  Custis? 
I  am  no  Sissy,  am  I  ?" 

"Of  course,  you  are  not,"  answered  Custis,  with 
a  soothing  caress.  "You  know  some  men  have  no 
use  for  a  gentle  boy.  A  half-hoodlum  is  what  they 
mean  by  a  manly  boy." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  a  manly  boy,  Custis  ?" 

"Well,  he  is  gentle,  he  is  tender,  above  all  else, 
especially  tender  toward  old  people,  little  chiklrcn  and 
dumb  creatures." 

"Yes?" 

"Of  course,  he  is  chivalric  toward  girls  and 
ladies." 

"What  else?" 

"He  is  just;  he  loves  fair  play  in  everything.  He 
is  always  ready  to  put  himself  in  another's  place.  He 
thinks  of  others  first ;  of  himself  last." 

"Yes  ?    Go  on !" 

"He  is  modest.  He  is  anything  but  a  bully  and 
braggart." 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH  jy 

"What  else  is  he?" 

"He  is  never  coarse.  He  loathes  unclean  talk, 
but  he  isn't  prudish.  If  he  has  to  speak  of  his  leg-,  he 
calls  it  his  leg  and  without  blushing.  He  knows  no 
reason  why  he  should  blush.  But  his  purity  goes 
deeper  than  speech.  His  mind  is  pure.  He  is  clean 
through  and  through." 

"Anything  else?" 

"He  is  brave — morally  brave,  even  more  than 
physically  so.  He  isn't  afraid  to  stand  up  for  the 
right  even  if  it  means  to  stand  all  alone.  Now,  I  have 
given  you  my  definition  of  a  manly  boy.  What  is 
yours  ?" 

"Just  what  yours  is.  Custis,  you  are  all  right.  I 
think  you  the  smartest  boy  I  ever  saw.  How  old 
are  you  ?" 

"I  shall  be  fifteen  next  Christmas." 

"And  I  shall  be  twelve  next  All  Souls'  Day.  You 
are  little  less  than  three  years  older  than  I  am.  But, 
my  goodness !  What  a  great,  big  boy  you  are !  And 
the  lots  you  do  know !"  Then,  after  a  long  breath : 
"Aren't  your  father  and  mother,  your  brothers  and 
sisters,  all  awfully  proud  of  you?  Don't  they  all 
love  you  to  distraction  ?" 

"The  loves  of  these  I  have  never  known,"  re- 
plied Custis.  "Yet  I  have  found  in  Uncle  Pierre's 
love  a  love  greater  than  all  those  loves  run  into  one. 
He  doesn't  love  after  the  fashion  of  men  and  women. 
He  loves  like  God!    He  has  the  heart  of  God !" 

The  young  bosom  rose  and  fell  with  the  mag- 
nitude of  the  thought.  And,  speaking  again,  he  uttered 
this  startling  heresy: 

"Jesus  was  not  the  only  one  in  whom  God  ever 
incarnated  himself." 

Pelham  drew  a  long  sigh,  as  one  beneath  the 
shadow  of  a  great  awe. 

"How  you  do  love  your  Uncle  Pierre !"  he  sai^  ^t 
length,  hushedly. 


78   «  REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"Love  him !"  echoed  Custis.  "I  love  him  more 
than  all  the  universe.  Sometimes  when  I  allow  my- 
self to  think  of  his — his — going  from  me " 

"You  mean — his — dying?" 

"Yes,"  the  young  voice  going  down  to  a  wdiisper, 
"and  I  grow  cold  all  over,  as  if  I  were  dying  myself." 

"I  hope  he'll  never  die  while  you  live,"  said  poor 
little  Pelham,  his  face  mirroring  the  sympathy  he  felt. 

"Thank  you,  Pelham,"  returned  Custis,  stroking 
the  little  fellow's  hand.    "Your  sympathy  is  sweet." 

Pelham  plucked  a  daisy  that  leaned  against  his 
cheek  and  began  to  count  its  petals,  but  talking  with 
Custis  was  more  interesting  than  daisies,  and  he  flung 
the  flower  away  and  said : 

"I  wonder  if  father  would  think  you  a  manly 
boy?  I  am  sure  he  would.  I  wish  he  could  see  you, 
Custis.  Pie  is  out  here  somewhere  now,  but  not  be- 
cause he  loved  Mr.  Davis.  He  had  no  use  for  him 
at  all."  ^ 

"Naturally,  being  a  northern  man." 

"No,  he  is  a  southern  man.  But  he  has  lived  in 
the  North  ever  since  before  I  was  born,  and  he  has 
turned  Republican,  too." 

"A  Republican?" 

"Yes.  Isn't  it  disgraceful — a  \'irginian's  being  a 
Republican?  I  am  a  Democrat,  I  am.  So  is  mother, 
and  Virginia,  too,  is  a  Democrat.  Mother  says  she 
can  never  reconcile  herself  to  father's  turning  Re- 
publican. But  he  laughs  and  calls  her  a  mossback  and 
]jOurbon  and  says  a  man,  if  he  wants  to  be  decent  in 
the  North,  has  to  be  a  Republican,  just  as  a  man,  if  he 
wants  to  be  decent  in  the  South,  lias  to  be  a  Demo- 
crat. But  that  sort  of  logic  doesn't  impress  mother  at 
all.  She  says  that  to  be  decent,  according  to  father,  is 
to  be  wealthy.  She  would  be  a  Democrat  in  the 
North,  she  says,  if  she  found  herself  with  nobody  but 
paupers  and  ]\Iickies." 


'There's  Virginia  now."    Page  79. 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH    79 

"I  admire  your  mother  for  her  moral  courage, 
even  if  I  am  not  a  Democrat  myself." 

"You  are  not  a  Republican,  Custis?" 

"No!  No!  No!"  shuddered  Custis.  'T  am  a— 
Socialist." 

Pelham  started; 

Custis  laughed. 

''What's  the  matter,  Pelham?" 

"Oh,  nothing !  Only  I  had  an  idea  that  Socialists 
were  terrible  people.'  But  I  must  have  been  wrong, 
that's  all.  I  know  I  was  if  you  are  one.  By  the  way, 
do  you  love  bon-bons?  I  bought  a  box  on  my  way  to 
Hollywood  and  just  now  thought  of  them." 

He  drew  the  box  from  his  jacket  pocket,  and, 
opening  it,  handed  it  to  Custis,  who  took  one  of  the 
dainty  confections. 

"Take  some  more." 

"This  is  enough,  thank  you." 

"It  is  not.  Here,  hold  your  hands  together,  like 
this." 

Custis  shook  his  head. 

"Please  do  it,  won't  you?"  pleaded  Pelham, 

And  Custis  yielded,  holding  his  two  palms  to- 
gether as  commanded,  while  the  generous  little  New 
Yorker  poured  the  bon-bons  into  them  until  they  ran 
over  on  the  ground. 

Custis  protested  against  such  wanton  generosity, 
but  Pelham  had  his  way. 

"I  don't  want  to  take  all  your  bon-bons." 

"You  are  not  taking  them.  Fm  giving  them  to 
you.    See?    There's  Virginia  now !" 

And  the  two  boys  sprang  from  their  semi-recum- 
bent position  among  the  daisies. 

"Is  that  your  sister  ?"  asked  Custis. 

"Yes,  my  half-sister."  And  he  shouted:  "Vir- 
ginia !  Virginia !" 

She  turned  on  hearing  her  name,  and,  uttering  a 
cry  of  joy,  started  up  the  hill  toward  her  brother, 


8o    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

while  Custis  held  his  breath  because  of  the  delight  it 
gave  him  to  look  upon  the  girl,  she  was  so  abundantly 
alive,  so  robustly  beautiful. 

"You  horrid  boy!"  she  exclaimed,  hugging  Pel- 
ham  in  her  joy.  "I  have  been  positively  insane  about 
you,  and  you  sitting  here  devouring  bon-bons  as  con- 
tentedly as  if  you  were  at  a  matinee.  The  heartless- 
ness  of  boys-!    I  never  saw  anything  like  it !"' 

"I  have  had  a  lovelier  time  than  I  ever  had  at  a 
matinee.  Virginia,  this  is  my  friend,  Custis  Christian. 
Miss  Yancey,  Mr.  Christian." 

Then  followed  the  presentation  of  Custis  to  Miss 
Johnson,  the  governess. 

'T  don't  know  where  I  should  have  wandered  but 
for  Custis,"  said  Pelham.  "He  found  me  crying — I 
couldn't  help  it — and  said  he  would  help  me  find  you. 
Wasn't  it  awfully  good  of  him?" 

"It  was  lovely  of  him.  All  you  have  to  do  to  make 
me  your  friend,"  she  said,  turning  to  Custis,  "is  to  do 
that  brother  of  mine  a  good  turn.  A  kindness  done 
him  is  a  kindness  done  me.  So  we  are  friends  without 
any  preliminaries." 

He  lifted  his  cap. 

"You  are  a  Richmond  boy,  I  presume,  Mr.  Chris — 
no,  I  won't  do  it !    I  won't  mister  you !" 

"I  don't  w^ant  you  to  do  it.  Nobody  else  misters 
me.  Why  should  you?  Call  me  Custis,  as  everybody 
else  does." 

"Suppose  I  simplify  it  more?" 

"How?" 

"By  calling  you  Cus." 

"No!  No!  Nobody  ever  Cussed  me  before,  and 
you  wouldn't  do  it." 

"No ;  I  couldn't  be  so  cruel.  And  you  don't  want 
to  be  mistered,  either  ?" 

"Why  should  I?  I  am  only  a  boy,  and  I  intend 
to  remain  one  as  long  as  I  can." 

Virginia  clapped  her  hands  in  approval. 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH    8i 

"It  is  just  delightful,"  she  exclaimed,  "to  meet  a 
real  boy  like  you — a  natural,  healthy  boy,  who  is  in 
no  hurry  to  become  a  man,  who  feels  the  joy  of  be- 
ing a  boy." 

"And  it  is  as  delightful  to  meet  a  real  girl  like 
you,"  returned  Custis ;  "an  unaffected,  wholesome  girl, 
who  feels  the  joy  of  being  a  girl." 

"Thank  you.  That  was  very  prettily  said.  But 
the  real  boy  is  always  chivalric.  There  is  one  thing 
I  don't  like.  It  is  your  little  old  man-hoy.  I  just 
loathe  him — this  premature  freak,  who  skips  his  boy- 
hood, who  takes  every  short  cut  and  byway  possible 
to  reach  manhood,  he  is  so  crazy  to  get  there." 

"Yet  fails  to  get  there,  after  all,  he  is  so  dwarfed 
by  the  sacrifice  of  his  boyhood,"  observed  Custis. 

"How  finely  you  rounded  out  that  thought,"  ex- 
claimed Virginia.  "Custis,  you  are  a  boy  worth 
knowing !" 

"Of  course,  he  is,"  enthusiastically  assented  Pel- 
ham,  and  he  sighed  from  the  very  excess  of  his  pride 
in  Custis.  "Don't  you  wish  he  lived  in  New  York, 
Virginia  ?" 

"Why  not  wish  we  lived  in  Richmond  so  long  as 
you  are  only  wishing?"  smiled  the  girl. 

Miss  Johnson,  ever  on  the  trail  of  improprieties, 
could  see  nothing  charming  in  the  frank  intercourse  of 
these  children. 

"Why,  Virginia !"  she  said,  severely.  "How  you 
do  talk !  You  are  positively  bold.  What  will  Mr. 
Christian  think  of  you?" 

"She  is  all  right,"  laughed  Custis.  "She  is  not  bold 
at  all,  Miss  Johnson.  She  is  natural,  that's  all,  and 
naturalness  in  a  girl  is  so  rare  that  really  it  invigor- 
ates me." 

"Now,  will  you  be  good?"  cried  Virginia,  trium- 
phantly. "How  I  do  envy  you  Richmond  people !" 
turning  to  Custis,  who  was  so  much  more  interesting 
than  Miss  Johnson.    "I  just  love  Richmond!  If  I  could 


82  REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

only  live  here,  I  would  never,  never  want  to  die." 

"You  wouldn't  want  to  die,  no  matter  where  you 
lived." 

"Why?" 

"Because  you  are  young  and  so  gloriously 
healthy." 

"But  I  shall  not  always  be  young  and  so  glori- 
ously healthy.  I  must  get  old  some  day,  and  I  might 
become  gaunt  and  bony  and  everything  else  hideous. 
Many  do,  you  know.  Or  I  might  go  to  the  other 
extreme — accumulate  so  much  flesh  as  to  look  more 
like  a  hippopotamus  than  a  woman.  In  either  event 
I  would  want  to  die." 

"Unless  you  lived  in  Richmond." 

"Yes ;  I  could  endure  all  things  here." 

A  rose  fluttered  from  her  bosom,  seeking  comrade- 
ship with  the  plebeian  daisies. 

Custis  picked  it  up  and  handed  it  to  her. 

"Thank  you.  But  you  can  have  it  if  you  want  it. 
May  I  fasten  it  on  your  coat?" 

And  she  did  so,  their  clean  young  breaths  coming 
together  like  the  perfume  of  two  flowers. 

"Now,  you  are  a  swell  boy,"  she  observed.  "But 
you  are  that,  rose  or  no  rose,  aren't  you?  Pelham, 
love,  run  for  some  water.  Miss  Johnson,  dear  old 
Puritan,  is  about  to  faint." 

"No,  I  am  not,"  declared  that  painfully  proper 
lady.  "But,  truly,  I  am  horrified  at  your  behavior. 
What  would  your  mother  sav  if  I  were  to  tell  her  of 
all  this?" 

"Why,  she  would  simply  laugh  and  call  you  Pris- 
cilla  Prude  for  all  your  pains,  as  she  usually  does 
when  you  go  to  her  with  some  tale  of  woe." 

Here  Custis  turned  to  Pelham,  taking  his  hand. 

"Now  that  you  have  found  your  sister,  Fll  return 
to  Uncle  Pierre." 

"You  are  not  going,  really?"  said  Virginia. 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH    83 

"Please  don't  leave  me,  Custis !"  cried  Pelham, 
tears  in  his  eyes. 

"I  must  do  it,  Pelham.  Uncle  Pierre  is  waiting 
for  me.    I  ought  to  have  joined  him  before  this." 

'T  am  so  sorry,"  said  Virginia.  "Can't  you  come 
to  see  us  while  we  are  in  Richmond?  Mother  will 
just  hunger  to  see  you,  she  will  love  you  so  when  she 
learns  of  your  kindness  to  Pelham." 

"That  she  will,"  exclaimed  Pelham.  "Come  down 
to-night,  Custis.  Your  Uncle  Pierre  will  let  you. 
Bring  him  with  you." 

"Yes.  Do  you  know  where  we  are  stopping?" 
said  Virginia,  and  she  gave  him  their  address. 

"I  wish  I  could  call  on  you,"  he  answered.  "But 
Uncle  Pierre  and  I  are  going  out  to  dinner  this 
evening." 

"Well,  to-morrow?"  she  pursued. 

"Yes,  to-morrow,"  echoed  Pelham. 

"Why,  children,"  said  Miss  Johnson,  "have  you 
forgotten  that  we  leave  for  your  grandmother's  to- 
morrow morning?" 

"That's  so.    I  had  forgotten  it,"  said  Virginia. 

"I  wish  we  weren't  going,"  pouted  Pelham,  re- 
fusing to  release  Custis 's  hand.  "I  would  rather  stay 
here  and  have  you  come  to  see  us." 

"We  shall  meet  again,  Pelham.  I  am  sure  of  it." 
And  with  these  words  Custis  kissed  the  little  chap, 
who,  somehow,  had  got  closer  to  him  than  any  other 
boy  he  had  ever  known.  He  released  himself  from 
the  lad's  embrace,  shook  hands  with  Virginia  and 
Miss  Johnson,  and,  lifting  his  cap,  hurried  away  in  the 
direction  of  the  Davis  section,  where  he  had  left  Dr. 
Custis. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

Mrs.  Huntington  was  certainly  a  woman  "with 
the  courage  of  her  convictions."  Although  she  had 
lived  in  the  North  since  she  was  sixteen,  although  her 
first  husband  had  come  of  stalwart  Republican  stock, 
and  her  second  had  become  an  even  more  rabid  parti- 
san of  plutocracy,  Mrs.  Huntington  had  remained 
true  to  the  faith  of  her  fathers.  The  charge 
against  the  Democratic  party  that  it  was  the  party  of 
"Mickies"  and  other  foreign  riffraff,  "the  party  of 
Rum,  Romanism  and  Rebellion,"  had  served  only  to 
strengthen  her  loyalty  to  its  tenets  and  to  intensify 
her  bitterness  toward  the  Republican  party. 

''There  is  no  hope  for  Louise.  She  is  a  Bourbon 
and  will  die  one,"  her  husband  would  say.  "Neither 
old  Bob  Toombs  nor  Jeff.  Davis  was  ever  the  unrecon- 
structed rebel  she  is,"  Avas  another  of  his  pleasantries 
which  he  never  tired  of  repeating.  "It  has  been  quite 
a  while  since  the  episode  at  Appomattox,  but  Louise 
doesn't  seem  to  have  heard  of  it  yet." 

And  Mrs.  Huntington,  in  defending  her  devotion 
to  the  Lost  Cause,  would  retort:  "It  is  not  because  I 
believe  in  chattel  slavery ;  it  was  wrong,  undoubtedly, 
and  I  am  glad  it  is  gone.  But  I  am  a  rebel — and  I 
glory  in  it — because  I  believe  in  State's  rights,  in  the 
right  of  secession.  If  I  be  wrong,  it  will  take  other 
than  a  Republican  to  show  me  my  error.  A  Repub- 
lican!  Whew!  If  you  wish  to  know  what  the  Repub- 
lican party  was  in  the  beginning,  go  South  and  ask  the 

84 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH  85 

people  there  who  passed  through  the  agony  and 
humiHation  of  carpet-bagger  rule,  who  were  plundered 
and  outraged  by  these  despicable  Republican  scala- 
wags !  If  you  wish  to  know  what  the  Republican 
party  is  to-day,  you  have  only  to  look  around  you. 
In  the  North,  it  is  controlled  by  vulgar  plutocrats  and 
made  up  of  a  multitude  of  petty  dollar  chasers,  snobs, 
fanatics  and  hypocrites.  In  the  South,  it  is  composed 
of  a  million  or  more  negroes  and  a  sprinkling  of  low- 
down  renegade  whites  whose  price  of  apostasy  is 
usually  a  postmastership.  Now,  there  is  your  Re- 
publican party,  past  and  present.  North  and  South! 
I  could  tolerate  Mr.  Yancey's  Republicanism,  because 
he  was  born  to  it;  but  I  cannot  and  will  not  counten- 
ance Fred  Huntington's  flop,  born  and  bred  as  he  was 
in  the  South." 

Now,  when  I  have  to  state  that  a  headache  had 
kept  Mrs.  Huntington  in  her  room  on  so  great  an 
occasion  as  the  reinterment  of  the  "Confederacy's  chief- 
tain— an  event  which  she  had  come  South  purposely 
to  witness — you  may  safely  conclude  it  was  no  mere 
feminine  headache. 

"It  must  be  a  terrific  one,"  thought  her  husband, 
and  in  his  sympathy  he  went  so  far  as  to  offer  to  stay 
in  with  her,  but  she  would  have  none  of  his  society. 
Virginia  and  Pelham,  too,  wanted  to  give  her  their 
company,  like  the  loving  children  they  were,  but  she 
gently  drove  them  forth  with  these  words : 

"If  I  can't  attend  such  an  occasion  myself,  I  shall 
have  the  consolation  of  knowing  that  my  children 
could  do  so." 

And  so  she  passed  the  day  alone  with  her  head- 
ache, which  relaxed  its  severity  as  the  evening  drew 
nigh,  bringing  the  children  back  to  her  arms. 

"What  do  you  think,  mother?"  cried  Virginia, 
"Pelham,  like  the  big  baby  is,  got  lost  and  the  sweetest, 
dearest  boy  found  him  and  was  the  means  of  restoring 
him  to  us." 


86    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"Wasn't  that  lovely  of  him?"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Hunting-ton. 

"It  was  divine  of  him !  Oh,  mother,  I  wish  you 
could  see  him!  He  is  so  handsome!  He  is  beautiful! 
He  is  a  poem  in  athletics !  Such  a  face  as  he  has — 
Adonis's  and  Apollo's  were  plain  when  you  have  seen 
his.  And  such  teeth !  They  make  his  lips  look  as 
though  they  were  sandwiched  with  lilies  of  the  valley ! 
And  eyes  of  tlie  heavenliest  blue — that  serene,  Aprilish 
blue  you  find  in  periwinkle  blossoms !  And  his  cheeks 
— why,  pink  carnations  would  turn  green  with  envy !" 

"Then  that  would  make  them  green  carnations," 
smiled  Airs.  Huntington. 

"But  his  mouth,  mother — that's  the  sweetest  part 
of  him !  You  feel  just  as  if  you  wanted  to  kiss  the 
boy  to  death," 

"Oh,  you  extravagant  infant !"  and  ]\Irs.  Hunting- 
ton's hand  went  up  in  mock  despair.  "A  copy  truly  of 
your  mother!  A  copy  of  Louise  Pelham  at  fourteen, 
extravagantly  aesthetic,  ever  raving  over  something 
beautiful,  from  a  butterfly  to  a  boy!  Now,  Miss  John- 
son, what  have  you  to  say?  How  did  this  much-alive 
maiden  demean  herself  in  the  presence  of  that  athletic 
poem,  beside  whom  Apollo  and  Adonis  are  reduced 
to  plain  pagans?  I  hope  she  restrained  her  murderous 
impulse  and  left  him  alive — the  kid  whose  mouth  is  a 
lily-of-the-valley  sandwich  ?" 

"Yes,  but  I  regret  to  say  that  her  conduct  was  not 
such  as  I  could  have  desired,"  answered  the  puri- 
tanical j\Iiss  Johnson,  disgusted  as  much  at  the  ma- 
ternal indulgence  shown  as  at  Mrginia's  improprieties. 
"She  told  the  young  man  to  his  face  that  he  was 
lovely," 

"Pardon  me,  Miss  Johnson,  I  did  not,"  cried  Vir- 
ginia, "I  said  simply  it  was  lovely  of  him — Irs  find- 
ing Pelham  and  restoring  the  child  to  us.  Didn't 
mother  just  now  say  the  very  same  thing?" 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH    87 

"What  about  the  rose?  You  didn't  drop  it  pur- 
posely, so  he  could  pick  it  up?" 

'T  did  not.  I  am  not  so  artful.  To  tell  the  truth, 
mother,"  turning  to  Mrs.  Huntington,  "the  boy  fas- 
cinated me  so  I  forgot  that  there  were  roses  in  the 
world  until  that  one  dropped." 

"And  he  gallantly  picked  it  up  for  you,  of  course?" 
said  Mrs.  Huntington,  interested  in  the  episode. 

"Yes,  and  I  fastened  it  on  him,"  answered  Vir- 
ginia. "And  he  didn't  mind.  He  smiled  as  if  he 
liked  it.    I  know  he  did." 

"And  I  know  it,  too.  He  wouldn't  be  a  healthy, 
normal  boy  if  he  hadn't.  Well,  is  that  the  extent  of 
your  offending?  If  so,  I'll  dismiss  the  case  against 
you.  Miss  Yancey.  Why,  Pelham,"  turning  to  her 
son,  "what  is  the  matter?  You  haven't  uttered  a 
word  since  you  came  back,  and  you  look  as  if  you 
hadn't  a  friend  on  earth." 

For  answer  the  little  fellow  arose,  came  to  her 
and  put  his  arm  around  her  neck. 

"Isn't  mother's  man-child  well?"  she  asked,  kiss- 
ing him  again  and  again.    "You  are  crying,  darling?" 

"I'm  so  lonesome,  mother,"  he  sobbed. 

"Lonesome?  And  with  mother  and  Virginia? 
What's  the  matter,  dear?" 

"I — I  miss  him  so ;  I  miss  Custis  so." 

"Custis?"  Mrs.  Huntington  started.  "Is  that 
the  boy's  name?" 

"Yes,  mother;  Pierre  Custis " 

"Pierre  Custis?" 

"Pierre  Custis  Christian.  He  is  named  for  his 
LTncle  Pierre,  and  my !  my !  how  Custis  does  love 
him !" 

"And  Christian  is  the  boy's  surname?  I  wonder 
whose  child  he  can  be  ?"  reflected  the  lady.  "I  am  sure 
that  Christian  is  not  the  name  of  the  scalawag  whom 
Barbara  married,  and  Pierre  has  no  other  sister." 


88    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"Why,  do  you  know  Custis's  Uncle  Pierre, 
mother?"  asked  Pclham. 

"Really,  mother  ?"  chimed  in  Virginia. 

"I  knew  him  when  we  were  boy  and  girl.  We 
were  verv  much  in  love  with  each  other  in  our  school 
days." 

"Why  didn't  you  marry  him,  mother  ?"  asked  Pel- 
ham.  "Just  suppose  you  had?  Custis's  Uncle  Pierre 
would  be  my  father,  wouldn't  he?  And  Custis  and  I 
would  be  first  cousins,  wouldn't  wc?" 

Mrs.  Huntington  smiled  helplessly.  The  questions 
were  more  than  she  could  answer. 

******* 

"I  suppose  the  little  chap  found  his  sister?"  said 
Dr.  Custis,  on  Custis's  return. 

"Yes,  Uncle  Pierre.  Do  you  know  I  hated  to 
leave  him?  And  he  didn't  want  me  to  go  at  all.  He 
clung  to  me  as  if  he  loved  me  so." 

"That  isn't  strange.  Who  is  it  doesn't  love  Uncle 
Pierre's  boy  ?  Who  is  it  doesn't  feel  lonelier  for  your 
going?" 

"He  is  a  wonderfully  bright  boy,"  continued  Cus- 
tis ;  "a  boy  refreshingly  removed  from  the  common- 
place. I  can't  understand  it,  but  it  seems  as  if  I  had 
known  him  all  my  life.  I  love  the  little  chap.  Uncle 
Pierre !  I  love  him,  deeply,  yearningly,  as  I  would  a 
younger  brother  if  I  had  one.    Strange,  isn't  it?" 

"Who  is  the  little  one?    What's  his  name?" 

"Pelham  Huntington." 

"Huntington  !     Pelham  Huntington  !" 

"Yes,  Uncle  Pierre.     Do  you  know  his  family?" 

"I  used  to  know  his  mother." 

"Is  that  so?" 

"Louise  Pclham  was  her  name  in  those  days.  And 
the  boy's  sister?  She  is  not  a  Huntington?  She  is  a 
Yancey,  isn't  she?" 

"Virginia  Yancey." 

"And  she  is  about  your  age?" 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH    89 

"I  imagine  she  is.  And  she  is  a  beautiful  girl, 
Uncle  Pierre — the  most  beautiful  girl  1  ever  saw !" 

"Ah !" 

The  boy  blushed. 

"Obviously,  to  draw  from  you  so  warm  a  superla- 
tive," remarked  Dr.  Custis.  "But  tell  me,  son,  more 
about  this  girl,  Virginia  Yancey.     I  am  interested." 

"To  begin  with,  she  is  a  genuine  madcap." 

"An  instance  of  heredity's  getting  in  its  work. 
Her  mother  before  her  was  a  madcap.  And  her  eyes — 
are  they  of  a  soft,  velvety  brown  ?  Do  they  awaken  tlie 
poet  in  one?" 

"They  are  brown,  soft  and  velvety,"  answered 
Custis,  but  he  declined  to  commit  himself  further. 

The  two  sat  for  a  while  looking  abstractedly  across 
the  James.  Far  away,  over  the  stretch  of  rocks  and 
willowed  islets,  near  to  the  Belle  Isle  shore,  a  party  of 
bathers,  minified  by  distance,  scampered  friskily  over 
the  rocks,  disappearing  and  reappearing  as  they  dived 
into  the  water  or  sprang  out  of  it. 

"Do  you  know,  son,"  said  Dr.  Custis,  at  length, 
"tliat  Uncle  Pierre  was  once  guilty  of  the  masculine 
weakness  of  falling  in  love  with  a  girl?  Would  you 
believe  it  of  me?" 

"Why,  that's  all  right,"  laughed  the  youngster, 
an  unmistakable  ring  of  sympathy  in  his  voice,  as  if 
he  were  beginning  to  feel  the  symptoms  of  the  weak- 
ness himself.  "And  who  was  the  girl.  Uncle  Pierre? 
You  don't  mind  telling  me,  do  you  ?" 

"You  scamp  !    Don't  you  know  ?" 

"Virginia's  mother  ?" 

"She  was  the  damsel  who  gave  me  the  Romeo 
rabies."  j 

"And  she  could  love,  she  could  marry  another  man 
after  having  loved  you  ?" 

"The  evidence  points  that  way.  It  seemed  as  if 
she  could  love,  she  could  marry — tv/o  men." 

Custis  gave  a  snifi  of  disgust. 


90    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"Uncle  Pierre,  I  don't  fancy  such  a  woman,"  he 
declared.  'T  don't  like  Airs.  Hunting-ton  at  all.  I 
can't  help  it,  even  if  she  is  the  mother  of  Mrginia  and 
Pelham,  even  if  she  is  still  dear  to  you." 

"You  are  severe,  son." 

"Perhaps  I  am,  but  it  does  seem  to  me  that  the 
bare  thought  of  another  man — much  less  two  men — 
would  have  been  nauseating  to  her  after  she  had  known 
and  loved  you." 

"But  other  people  are  not  given  to  idealizing  a 
certain  old  country  doctor  as  you  are.  P.eally,  it  is 
your  besetting  sin,  and  you  must  rid  yourself  of  it," 
with  a  mock  gravity,  which  was  only  productive  of  a 
hug  from  the  youngster. 


"That's  a  lovely  rose,  son,"  said  Dr.  Custis,  as  they 
rose  to  return  to  the  city. 

"Do  you  think  so?" 

"I  do.    Where  did  you  get  it?" 

"I  love  to  hear  that  plaintive  murmur  of  the  river 
as  its  waters  rush  over  the  rocks.    Don't  you  ?" 

"Yes,  but  I  love  the  breath  of  roses  more." 

"Isn't  that  a  long  freight  train?" 

"Quite  a  chain  of  cars.  Who  gave  you  that  beau- 
tiful rose?" 

"You  can  remember  away  back  before  that  rail- 
road was  built,  when  boats  used  to  go  up  and  down 
the  canal,  can't  you,  Uncle  Pierre?" 

"That  wasn't  so  long  ago.  You  surely  didn't 
steal  that  rose  ?" 

"How  tiresome  such  traveling  in  those  dn}-s  must 
have  been!" 

"Quite  tedious.  Did  the  daughter  of  my  cx- 
sweethcart  give  you  that  rose?" 

"The  daughter  of  your  ex-swecthcart  gave  me 
this  rose." 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH    91 

And  the  boy  blushed  beautifully,  and  Dr.  Custis 
laughed  joyously,  living  his  youth  over  in  the  lad. 

Half  an  hour  later  they  alighted  from  a  horse  car 
(now,  happily,  a  memory)  at  Main  and  Laurel  streets 
and  took  their  stand  on  the  southeast  corner  to  await 
the  next  trolley  car  going  east.  They  had  just  done 
so  when  a  strikingly  handsome  man  of  athletic  build, 
faultlessly  dressed,  emerged  from  Monroe  Park,  and, 
glancing  up  Main  street,  as  if  he,  too,  were  looking  for 
a  car,  strode  across  the  street.  It  was  Frederick  Hunt- 
ington. The  two  men  who  had  once  been  closer  than 
brothers  looked  at  each  other,  starting  visibly,  but 
no  word,  no  smile  passed  between  them. 

Huntington,  seeing  Custis,  stepped  upon  the  curb- 
ing beside  the  boy  and  surveyed  him  from  head  to 
foot,  first  curiously,  then  appreciatively,  then  hungrily, 
as  one  fascinated  by  some  beautiful  painting  that  grows 
upon  the  beholder. 

Custis  felt  the  burning  gaze  upon  him,  and,  em- 
barrassed, moved  closer  to  Dr.  Custis. 

Huntington,  lost  in  contemplation  of  the  lad,  un- 
consciously moved  nearer  to  him,  continuing  to  burn 
him  with  that  strange,  hungry — shall  I  say,  worship- 
ful ?— look. 

Happily  for  Custis  at  this  moment,  the  military, 
on  its  return  from  Hollywood,  turned  into  Main  street 
from  Cherry,  followed  by  the  rabble  which  it  always 
calls  forth.  The  band,  which  had  exhausted  all  the 
old  airs  dear  to  the  southern  heart,  here  broke  into 
"Auld  Lang  Syne,"  a  favorite  of  the  boy's,  and  swept 
out  of  himself  by  the  glad-sad  notes,  he  began  to  sing 
it  in  a  subdued  voice. 

"Uncle  Pierre,"  he  remarked,  presently,  "do  you 
know  that  'Auld  Lang  Syne'  has  an  effect  upon  me  that 
no  other  tune  has  ?  I  feel  as  if  I  wanted  to  laugh  and 
to  cry  at  the  same  time." 

And  he  struck  it  up  again : 


92    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"Should  auld  aoqnaintanec  be  forgot 

And  never  brought  to  mind? 
Should  aiild  ucquaintanc-e  be  forgot 

And  days  of  auld  lang  syne?" 

Pierre  Custis,  stirred  by  the  memories  of  his  long- 
dead  university  days,  invoUmtarily  looked  at  Fred- 
erick Huntington,  forgetting  for  the  time  the  latter's 
crime,  remembering  him  only  as  he  had  known  and 
loved  him  in  the  sweet,  white  days  of  old.  And 
Frederick  Huntington  met  tlie  gaze  of  his  old  chum 
with  a  softness  in  his  face  and  a  moisture  in  his  eyes 
which  argued  that  he  was  not  all  devil. 

"Here  comes  a  car  at  last,  son,"  said  Dr.  Custis, 
touching  Custis  on  the  shoulder  and  motioning  the 
boy  to  precede  him. 

There  were  only  two  seats  left,  but,  seeing  Hunt- 
ington behind  him,  Custis  declined  to  sit  down. 

"I  don't  want  your  seat,  my  son,"  said  the  gentle- 
man, smiling. 

"But  I  want  you  to  have  it,"  insisted  the  youth, 
with  a  gentle  imperativeness. 

And  with  a  smile  and  "Thank  you  very  much," 
Huntington  sank  down  beside  Pierre  Custis. 

"You  can  sit  here,  son,"  suggested  the  Doctor,  in- 
dicating his  knee,  and  as  he  reached  forth  his  hand  to 
draw  Custis  down  into  his  lap,  Huntington  caught  the 
boy  and  drew  him  down  into  his. 

"You'll  find  me  rather  heavy,"  said  Custis. 

"You  are  a  bouncing  boy,  sure  enough,  but  I  don't 
mind  it,"  returned  Huntington,  encircling  the  boy's 
waist  with  his  arms.  Then  he  said  to  the  conductor, 
ivho  had  appeared  for  his  fare : 

"I  wish  to  get  ofif  at  Foushee  street." 

Two  minutes  later  the  conductor  called  out: 

"Foushee  street !" 

But  Huntington  remained  in  his  seat. 

"Foushee  street !" 

Still  he  stirred  not,  and  the  conductor  came  to 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH    93 

him,  reminding  him  that  he  had  called  his  destina- 
tion twice. 

"I  heard  you,"  returned  Huntington,  curtly. 

And  the  conductor  walked  off,  convinced  that  the 
distinguished-looking  passenger  "was  not  all  there," 
while  the  latter,  oblivious  of  trolley  car  conductors  and 
their  thoughts,  sat  holding  Custis  until  the  boy  sprang 
from  his  knee  to  follow  Dr.  Custis  out  of  the  car. 

"Good-bye,  sir,"  said  Custis,  giving  him  one  of  his 
winsome  smiles  and  his  hand  with  the  smile. 

"Good-bye,  my  son,"  responded  the  gentleman, 
with  a  lingering  tenderness  upon  the  words,  and  he 
retained  the  lad's  hand  as  long  as  he  could. 

And  then  as  Custis  moved  off  he  rose  as  if  to  fol- 
low him,  but,  restraining  the  impulse,  sank  back  into 
his  seat.  However,  he  got  off  at  the  next  street,  the 
atmosphere  of  the  car  had  grown  suddenly  so  oppres- 
sive without  the  youngster.  He  felt  as  if  he  were 
suffocating,  his  sense  of  loneliness  was  so  over- 
powering. 

"What  a  damned  fool  I  have  become  all  at  once !" 
he  mused.  "But  I  know  whose  boy  that  is.  Pierre 
Custis  wouldn't  have  to  tell  me  that  he  is  my  son.  I 
had  heard  of  Pierre's  taking  a  boy  to  bring  up,  and  I 
naturally  guessed  it  was  Dorothy's  kid,  but  I  never 
dreamed  he  was  a  youngster  like  that !  God  !  He  is  a 
dream !  I'd  be  as  proud  as  Lucifer  of  that  boy !" 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

Dorothy  Nelson  was  now  thirty-four  years  of 
age,  but  she  looked  hardly  twenty-four  that  May 
morning  as  she  sat  in  her  room  at  the  Valentine  House, 
tying  a  bewitching  cap  on  a  more  bewitching  bit  of 
femininity  that  had  come  to  her  and  Paul  the  Christ- 
mas before.  There  was  about  her  that  indefinable  girl- 
ishness,  betraying  itself  in  face,  figure  and  manner, 
which  some  women  carry  into  the  meridian  of  their 
years,  and  sometimes  beyond.  The  anguish,  the  shame 
of  her  early  womanhood  had  surely  been  enough  to 
ensnow  all  the  hairs  of  her  head  and  to  write  deep 
lines  in  her  face ;  yet  her  hair  to-day  was  as  brown 
and  abundant  as  in  her  teens,  and  not  a  line  marked 
the  fair,  beautiful  face  bent  above  the  babe's.  But, 
after  all,  it  was  not  so  remarkable.  She  had  just  come 
up  through  twelve  sweet  years  with  Paul  Nelson  by 
her  side,  and  he  had  been  so  tender  and  strong,  had 
this  once  thoughtless,  pleasure-pursuing  youth.  If  the 
perfidy  of  one  man  had  come  near  to  engulfing  her  in 
the  maelstrom  of  endless  infamy,  the  love  of  another 
had  snatched  her  from  her  impending  doom  and  estab- 
lished her  feet  again  in  the  paths  of  pleasantness  and 
honor. 

"Now,  you  are  ready  for  your  morning's  outing, 

Miss  Nelson,"  she  said,  as  she  arose  and  placed  the 

'  little  one  in  the  arms  of  the  benevolent-faced  ncgress 

who    had    accompanied    them    from    Coorgia    to    the 

Davis   reinterment.     "Don't  go   far  with   her,  Aunt 

94 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH  95 

Easter.  Try  to  be  back  within  an  hour.  I  am  sure  Dr. 
Custis  and  Custis  will  be  here  by  that  time,  although  I 
have  heard  nothing  from  them  yet." 

She  kissed  her  little  daughter,  and,  admonishing 
her  not  to  give  "mammy"  any  trouble,  picked  up 
"Trilby"  and  sat  herself  into  a  rocker.  But  she  read 
only  one  chapter.  She  was  in  no  mood  for  reading 
this  morning.  So  she  put  the  novel  aside  to  weep  an- 
other day  over  the  early  passing  of  Trilby  and  Little 
Billee. 

Presently  the  door  opened  and  Paul  entered,  shak- 
ing a  letter  at  her. 

"From  Dr.  Custis?"  she  cried. 

"An  epistle  from  St.  Pierre,"  he  returned,  hand- 
ing her  the  letter. 

She  broke  the  seal  eagerly  and  plunged  into  the 
contents : 

AIy  Dear  Dorothy — I  found  your  letter  on  our 
return  from  Hollywood  this  evening,  and  it  is  need- 
less to  tell  you  how  delighted  I  am  to  learn  that  you 
and  Paul  were  able,  after  all,  to  come  on  to  the  rein- 
terment. But  I  am  sorry  you  can't  visit  Holly  Hill 
while  in  Virginia.  Nothing  would  make  me  happier 
than  to  have  you  and  Paul  go  back  with  us  Saturday. 
I  wish  you  would  reconsider  the  matter. 

In  speaking  for  myself  I  am  also  voicing  the 
feelings  of  Custis.  The  little  chap  is  wild  to  see 
you.  He  loves  you  dearly,  and  I  have  done  all  I  could 
to  strengthen  and  make  holy  this  love.  He  can't 
understand  it  that  he  should  love  one  so  whom  he  has 
never  seen  (or  thinks  he  has  never  seen)  ;  but  seeks 
to  assure  himself  that  it  is  because  of  the  tender, 
womanly  letters  you  write  him. 

I  can  imagine  your  feelings  when  you  behold 
him  again  after  all  these  years,  and  I  could  blame 
you  for  nothing  you  might  do  in  your  mother  joy ;  but 
if  you  wish  to  beget  no  suspicion  in  his  mind,  I  would 
advise  you  to  restrain  yourself  as  much  as  possible.    I 


96    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

suspect  at  times  that  he  divines  the  truth  already,  but 
he  would  never  let  me  know  it,  because  of  a  little  talk 
I  had  with  him  some  years  ago.  It  was  not  long  after 
I  put  him  in  trousers — the  age  when  a  boy  is  a  walk- 
ing interrogation  point.  I  took  him  on  my  knee  and 
said :  "Custis,  doubtless  3^ou  would  like  to  know 
something  about  yourself.  Let  me  say  in  the  be- 
ginning: It  is  all  right — your  being  here  with 
Uncle  Pierre.  You  are  the  son  of  two  old  friends 
of  mine  w^hom  I  loved  very  dearly,  but,  unfortunate- 
ly, they  became  estranged  before  you  were  born  and 
you  were  given  to  me  to  bring  up  as  my  own 
little  boy.  Your  mother  gave  you  to  me  because 
she  thought  it  best  for  your  welfare,  because  she 
loved  Uncle  Pierre  as  she  loved  a  brother  and 
was  satisfied  he  would  do  the  right  thing  by  you 
as  near  as  he  could.  I  know  all  this  seems  mysterious 
to  you,  but  I  want  you  to  trust  Uncle  Pierre.  More 
than  this  I  am  not  prepared  to  tell  you  at  this  time,  nor 
for  a  long  time  to  come.  Some  day,  however,  condi- 
tions may  warrant  my  telling  you  all.  Until  then  I 
want  you  to  ask  no  questions.  You  will  do  this  if  you 
love  me,  if  you  believe  that  I  love  you  and  have  your 
happiness  at  heart."  He  wound  his  arms  around  my 
neck  and  kissed  me — his  way  of  acquiescing  to  my 
wishes — and  from  that  day  to  this  the  little  chap  has 
never  by  word  or  sign  betrayed  the  least  curiosity  in 
the  matter.  I  had  in  the  beginning  used  about  the 
same  words  to  my  neighbors  with  the  hint  given  as 
delicately  as  possible  that  the  affair  was  none  of  their 
business,  and  that  if  they  attempted  to  make  it  so  I 
would  consider  it  as  nothing  short  of  unpardonable  im- 
pertinence. In  thus  dealing  with  them  at  the  start,  as 
I  did  later  on  with  Custis,  I  have  spared  myself  an 
endless  amount  of  embarrassment  which  a  course  of 
subterfuge  or  outright  lying  would  undoubtedly  have 
brought  ujjon  me.  And  it  has  had  a  most  healthy  effect 
on  the  community.     Every  man  and  almost  every 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH    97 

woman,  white  and  black,  has  always  respected  my 
reticence  in  the  matter.  There  are  two  or  three  petti- 
coated  reptiles  who  are  ever  coiled  to  strike.  Up  to 
this  date,  however,  they  have  been  impotent  to  start 
a  scandal.  Nobody  minds  them,  they  are  so  thoroughly 
despised,  are  these  old  thin-lipped  shoulder-shruggers. 
Conditions,  though,  are  now  changing.  Lifelong 
Democrats  are  deserting  the  old  subsidized,  prostituted 
Democracy,  and  those  who  remain  with  it,  preferring 
tlie  darkness,  seem  stung  to  madness  by  the  exodus 
in  progress  and  in  turn  are  stinging  all  who  go  out 
from  them  into  the  light.  I  am  one  of  the  "sore- 
heads" and  "disgruntled  office  seekers,"  although  I 
never  sought  or  desired  an  office  in  my  life.  So  if 
the  Populists  should  nominate  me  for  the  Legislature, 
as  they  threaten  to  do,  I  shall  be  prepared  for  anything 
my  enemies  may  say  of  me.  It  is  certain  they 
have  a  fine  foundation  in  my  adoption  of  Custis  on 
v/hich  to  build  as  colossal  a  scandal  as  they  could 
desire. 

I  have  written  you  a  long  letter,  just  as  if  you 
were  away  down  in  Georgia.  However,  it  is  well  that 
I  have  done  so,  for  there  are  things  I  have  written  that 
I  should  not  have  had  the  opportunity  of  saying  to 
you  in  the  presence  of  Custis. 

Of  course,  we  accept  your  invitation  to  luncheon 
to-morrow.    Look  out  for  us  about  10  o'clock. 

God  bless  you,  little  girl !  And  God  bless  the 
noble  man  who  has  been  your  strength  these  twelve 
years !  There  is  no  man  whom  I  love  more  than 
Paul  Nelson. 

Kisses  for  Miss  Nelson. 

Your  friend  till  the  trumpet  toots — and  after- 
ward. 

Pierre  Custis. 

Dorothy  looked  up  from  the  letter,  a  glad  laugh 
breaking  from  her  lips. 

"Delightful  old  darling!"  she  exclaimed,  and  she 


98    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

passed  the  letter  to  her  husband  to  read.  "They  are 
coming-,  Paul !  They'll  be  here  soon — Dr.  Custis  and 
the  child!  My  child !  My  boy !  My  darling!  A  little 
while  and  I  shall  hold  him  in  my  arms,  I  shall  feed 
upon  his  lips !" 

She  drew  forth  her  watch,  while  her  husband  pro- 
ceeded to  read  the  letter.  Fourteen  minutes  of  ten 
o'clock!  She  skipped  to  the  mirror  and  surveyed  her 
reflection.  Surely,  this  was  not  vanity.  Why  should 
she  not  desire  to  look  her  best  in  the  eyes  of  her  son? 
Some  sweet  peas  were  envased  on  a  table  near.  She 
seized  the  flowers  and  transferred  them  to  her  corsage. 
Then  she  looked  at  her  v/atch  again.  Five  minutes 
of  ten ! 

"Here's  your  letter,  Dorothy,"  said  Paul. 

"You  big  baby !"  she  exclaimed.  "You  are  crying. 
Can't  you  stand  a  little  tafl'y  better  than  that?" 

He  smiled  absently.  His  thoughts  were  of  the 
atrocious  treatment  which  Dr.  Custis  was  likely  to 
receive  from  his  former  friends,  now  his  political 
enemies,  rather  than  of  the  physician's  affectionate 
allusion  to  himself. 

"Yes,  they  will  say  every  evil  thing  they  can  of 
this  spotless,  incomparable  man — these  very  people 
who  have  always  looked  upon  him  as  the  embodiment 
of  integrity.  And  for  what?  Because  he  dares  assert 
the  God-given  right  to  think  for  himself,  because  he 
refuses  to  fellowship  any  longer  with  owls  and  bats ! 
Ah,  we  know  something  of  these  Ilourbon  vipers,  don't 
we,  dear?"  winding  his  arm  around  his  wife. 

"We  do  indeed,"  she  replied.  "But  we'll  not  think 
of  them  now.  We'll  forget  them  and  all  their  dark 
methods.  Why,  it's  five  minutes  past  ten !  They  ought 
to  be  here.    Shall  we  go  down  to  the  parlor?" 

"No,  I  left  orders  to  have  them  shown  up  here." 

"Fm  glad  you  did.  Aren't  they  coming?  Yes! 
Yes!" 

There  was  a  rap  on  the  door.    Nelson  sprang  for- 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH    99 

ward  and  opened  it.  Dr.  Custis  and  Custis  stood 
without. 

"Doctor!     Doctor!" 

"Paul !     Paul !" 

And  then  they  fell  into  each  other's  arms,  they 
loved  each  other  so,  did  these  Altruria-bound  travelers. 
Coming  out  of  the  embrace,  the  physician  approached 
Mrs.  Nelson,  took  her  hand,  and,  bending  his  head, 
touched  her  brow  with  his  lips. 

"Dorothy,  little  girl !"'  he  murmured. 

She  said  nothing.  She  could  not,  but  her  eyes 
spoke  adequately  for  her,  telling  better  than  could 
words  have  told  how  rejoiced  she  was  to  see  him  again. 

They  stood  looking  at  Custis,  whom  Nelson  was 
kissing  as  tenderly  as  if  the  boy  were  his  own. 

"He — he  is  so  beautiful,"  she  said,  at  last ;  "but  he 
is  so  like " 

She  did  not  finish  the  sentence. 

Dr.  Custis  understood,  and  said: 

"An  exact  copy  of  him  physically.  But  there  the 
likeness  ends.  I  doubt  if  they  have  one  thought  in 
common." 

Here  Custis  started  toward  his  mother,  and  here 
she  stretched  forth  her  arms,  closing  her  eyes  as  if 
overcome  by  her  great  joy.  A  second  more  and  she 
had  the  boy  in  her  arms,  her  lips  on  his  in  a  long, 
ecstatic  kiss. 

The  two  men  turned  to  each  other  with  drenched 
eyes.  Dr.  Custis  took  Nelson's  arm,  and  in  silence 
they  walked  to  the  window,  leaving  mother  and  son 
together. 

Ten  minutes  later  Aunt  Easter  entered  the  room 
with  the  baby,  and  the  little  one  v/as  at  once  seized  by 
her  father  and  presented  to  the  child-adoring  physician. 

"Is  that  your  little  baby,  Mrs.  Nelson?"  asked 
Custis. 

"Yes,  darling ;  that's  she." 

Here  Nelson  came  to  them  bearing  the  child. 


loo        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"Custis,  son,  this  is  Miss  Nelson." 

And  the  boy  took  the  babe  in  his  arms  and  kissed 
her  repeatedly,  whereupon  she  grew  riotous  with  de- 
light. 

"I  never  saw  her  in  such  a  glee,"  exclaimed 
Dorothy. 

"I  am  sure  I  never  did,"  said  her  husband.  ''Cus- 
tis, son,  she  has  fallen  in  love  with  you." 

"Of  course,  she  has.  How  could  she  help  it?" 
cried  the  happy  mother  of  the  two  children,  smiling  up 
idolatrously  at  the  boy  as  he  stood  tossing  the  little 
girl  up  and  down  in  his  arms. 

"What  is  her  name,  Mrs.  Nelson?"  asked  Custis. 

"We  haven't  named  her  yet,  dear.  Isn't  it  stupid 
of  us?" 

"Suppose  you  name  her  for  us,  Custis,"  suggested 
Nelson. 

"Yes,  darling!"  cried  Dorothy,  clapping  her  hands. 
"How  clever  of  you,  Paul,  to  think  of  it,  and  how 
dense  of  me  not  to !  Yes,  sweetheart,"  turning  to 
Custis,  "name  our  little  girl  for  us." 

The  boy's  face  suddenly  glowed,  as  if  the  most 
beautiful  name  were  on  his  tongue,  but  a  mind-reading 
smile  from  Dr.  Custis  checked  his  precipitancy  and  he 
said  quietly : 

"I'll  think  of  a  name  presently." 

And  he  went  on  amusing  the  little  one,  while 
Dorothy  continued  to  feed  her  eyes  upon  him. 

The  gentlemen  drifted  into  politics,  and  after  a 
while,  observing  their  absorption,  Custis  leaned  toward 
Dorothy  and  said : 

"I  think  Virginia  a  beautiful  name  for  a  girl." 

"Do  you  wish  her  to  be  called  that?" 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Nelson.  Don't  you  think  it  a  lovely 
name  ?" 

"I  do ;  but  it  never  sounded  so  musical  until  you 
proposed  it.    Virginia !   Virginia  !   It  grows  upon  me ! 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         loi 

Why,  I  wouldn't  have  her  called  anything  else !  Paul ! 
Paul!" 

"Well,  dear?" 

"Custis  has  named  the  baby." 

"Well,  what  are  we  to  call  her?" 

"Virginia." 

"Virginia  Custis  Nelson,"  said  the  boy.  "Custis 
is  for  Uncle  Pierre,  you  know." 

"And  whom  is  Virginia  for?  Why,  you  are 
blushing,  old  man !  Doctor,  is  that  the  name  of  his 
sweetheart  ?" 

"Do  you  think  I'd  be  mean  enough  to  betray  my 
chum  ?"  said  the  physician,  scrutinizing  the  ceiling. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

Cindie  had  come  out  to  feed  the  fowls,  and  in 
response  to  her  energetic  "Coochie !  Coochie !"  the 
hungry  birds  were  gathering  rapidly  about  her — 
chickens,  turkeys,  guineas  and  pigeons. 

"Hi!  Who  dat  untie  my  ap'on  strings?"  she 
exclaimed,  suddenly.  "Ha'nts  mus'  be  roun'  dese  heah 
diggins,"  she  added,  in  mock  alarm. 

An  arm  ran  around  her  waist,  followed  by  a  laugh 
she  loved.  A  second  later  she  was  hugging  Custis, 
and  the  pan  of  grain  was  on  the  ground,  its  contents 
causing  a  riot  among  the  feathered  mob. 

"Gawd  love  his  bones !  It  seem  like  a  yeah  sense 
you  bin  gone,"  she  said.  "Whar  INIarse  Pierre?  You 
ain't  let  none  of  dem  Richmond  gals  take  up  wid 
him,  is  you  ?" 

"I  left  him  talking  with  'Rclius  and  Emcline." 

"Bound  dat  wench  got  show  herse'f  when  a  white 
man  round.  Did  dat  nigger  of  mine  git  to  dc  depo' 
wid  de  ca'idge  fo'  de  cars  git  dar?  I  was  skeercd  he 
wouldn't,  de  ole  slow  coach !  I  dunno  what  to  make 
of  dat  nigger  heah  lately.  He  warn't  no  ole  poke  like 
he  is  when  I  took  up  wid  him." 

"You  forget,  mammy,  that  Uncle  Reuben  isn't  as 
young  as  he  was  then,"  said  Custis,  extcnuatingly. 
"Say,  how  is  Anthracite  getting  on?  Her  three  weeks 
are  up  to-day." 

"Lawdy,  honey,  don't  you  know  dat  dis  no-sense 
nigger  done  'clar  forgit  'bout  dat  hen  tell  she  strut 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         103 

out  de  barn  dis  mawnin'  friskier  dan  sin  wid  a  whole 
passel  of  little  chickens  ?" 

"How  many,  mammy?" 

"Fifteen." 

"Fifteen !  Every  egg  hatched,  then !  Good  for 
you.  Anthracite !  You  are  a  bird  that  knows  her  busi- 
ness. Where  did  you  put  her?" 

"In  dat  hovel  'hind  de  icehouse." 

Custis  darted  away  to  congratulate  the  hen  upon 
her  success. 

A  minute  or  two  later  Dr.  Custis  came  up  to 
where  Cindie  stood,  and  when  he  had  greeted  her  he 
remarked : 

"  'Relius  and  Emeline  seem  to  be  a  happy  pair, 
and  I  am  so  glad.  'Relius  deserves  to  be  happy,  he  is 
so  faithful  and  honest." 

"He  hones'  enough  and  he  happy  enough,  too,  I 
speck,"  grunted  the  old  woman.  "But  he  ain't  gwine 
be  happy  long  wid  dat  yaller  wench." 

"What's  the  matter  with  Emeline?" 

*T  ain't  trustin'  her  too  fur." 

"You  are  prejudiced  against  the  girl,  mammy, 
and  for  no  other  reason  than  that  she  is  a  mulatto. 
Isn't  'Relius  one  ?" 

"If  he  is,  I  ain't  had  no  hand  in  it.  You  know 
how  me  and  Reuben  was  dead  sot  agin  Puss  Octavie 
takin'  up  wid  any  dem  Perkins  niggers,  but  warn't 
no  nigger  whar'd  satisfy  dat  gal  but  Pete.  Dat's  how 
come  'Relius  yaller," 

The  Doctor  smiled,  but  not  sympathetically. 

"  'Relius  he  so  wrop  up  in  dat  'oman  now  he  can't 
see  nuffin  tall  wrong  in  her,"  continued  Cindie.  "But 
de  day  it  gwine  dawn  when  his  eyes  gwine  flare  wide 
open.  Dar'll  be  revelations  in  dat  day.  Dat  gal  she  too 
fond  of  white  men  folks." 

Dr.  Custis  still  ventured  no  observation,  and  the 
old  woman,  thoroughly  aroused,  went  on : 


104        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"Folks  dey  all  de  time  harpin'  on  'Reikis  bein' 
so  happy.  He  happy  'cause  he  ain't  got  no  better  sense. 
He  blinder  dan  one  bat  now,  he  so  wrop  up  in  dat 
wench,  but  you  wait,  chile,  tell  his  eyes  git  shoved 
open.  He  ain't  gwine  be  in  love  den ;  he  gwine  be  in 
hate,  and  I  trimble  for  dat  day." 

The  physician  turned  without  a  word  and  went 
into  the  house.  He  gathered  up  the  mail  that  had 
accumulated  in  his  absence,  and,  repairing  to  his 
favorite  chair,  proceeded  to  look  it  over. 

"A  letter  from  Fred.  Huntington !"  he  exclaimed. 
"Well,  what  have  you  to  say,  my  fine  plutocrat?  Let 
me  see." 

Here  is  a  copy  of  the  letter: 

New  York,  May ,  i8 

Dear  Pierre — That  was  a  beautiful  boy  whom  I 
saw  with  you  in  Richmond.  His  face  is  ever  before 
me.  I  dream  of  him  in  the  night.  And  I  know  why: 
That  boy  is  my  son!  I  feel  it ;  I  know  it. 

In  a  way,  I  have  kept  myself  conversant  with 
your  movements  ever  since  that  little  affair  of  mine 
with  Dorothy  Christian  some  fifteen  years  or  more 
ago,  and  when  I  learned  of  the  sensation  you  created 
among  your  neighbors  by  adopting  a  child,  I  divined 
at  once  it  was  Dorothy's  young  one — and  mine !  I 
took  it  for  granted  that  he  was  an  ordinary  kid,  like 
most  that  are  born.  I  never  dreamed  he  was  the 
superb-looking  boy  he  is.  Surely,  a  young  fellow  is 
excusable  for  any  folly  if  the  outcome  be  a  lad  like 
that. 

I  want  the  boy,  and  if  you  will  turn  him  over 
to  me  I  will  make  all  atonement  possible.  I  will  do 
everything  for  his  advancement  in  the  world.  As 
soon  as  he  is  qualified,  he  shall  go  to  Harvard,  Yale 
or  any  other  up-to-date  university  he  wishes,  and  after 
liis  graduation  I  will  see  to  it  that  no  avenue  openable 
by  money  or  influence  is  closed  against  him  in  the 
pursuit  of  success  or  fame. 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH  105 

Knowing  you  as  I  do,  I  am  confident  it  is  your 
intention  to  send  the  boy  through  college,  to  fit  him 
for  some  profession,  regardless  of  the  drain  upon  your 
resources.  I  beg  of  you  not  to  do  it.  You  are  a  poor 
man,  possessing  little  else  than  your  ancestral  acres, 
while  I  am  rich  and  powerful.  It  is  not  necessary  that 
you  sacrifice  yourself  any  more  for  my  boy.  You  have 
done  enough  already  for  him — more,  I  am  sure,  than 
you  were  able  to  do.  Now,  I  insist  that  you  let  me  do 
the  rest.    Cordially  yours, 

Frederick  Barbour  Huntington. 

Dr.  Custis  regarded  the  letter  a  moment  with  a 
contemptuous  smile.  Then  he  struck  a  match,  and, 
applying  the  fire  to  the  letter,  flung  it  on  the  hearth 
and  watched  its  reduction  to  ashes. 

'T  had  begun  to  soften  toward  him  because  of  his 
tenderness  toward  the  little  chap  on  the  car,"  mused 
the  physician.  "I  was  close  to  forgiving  him  when  I 
picked  up  that  letter,  confident  that  its  contents  would 
justify  the  feeling.  But  they  only  bring  back  all  the 
old  bitterness.  He  talks  of  atonement,  yet  he  hasn't  a 
word  of  sympathy,  even  of  pity,  for  the  boy's  mother — 
the  poor  girl  whom  he  so  basely  betrayed  and  deserted. 
On  the  contrary,  he  seems  to  be  proud  of  it.  To  him 
it  is  only  'folly'  and  an  'afifair' — this  damnable  crime 
of  his.  He  actually  gloats  over  his  ability  to  beget 
a  boy  like  Custis.  He  is  excusable  because  of  his 
qualities  as  a  breeder.  There  is  unblushing  animal- 
ism for  you!" 


CHAPTER   XV. 

"Mammy,  I  have  distressing  news !" 

Old  Cindie  looked  up,  startled,  from  her  task  of 
darning  a  pair  of  Custis's  stockings. 

"Who  done  died  now?" 

"There  are  things  worse  than  death,  and  this  is 
one  of  them,"  answered  Dr.  Custis,  "Barbara  is  com- 
ing. 

"Oh,  sweet  Jesus!  What  we  bin  doin'  for  Ole 
Marster  to  'flict  us  like  dat  ?" 

"You  are  getting  biblically  rusty,  mammy.  It  is 
an  indication  that  we  are  in  favor  with  the  Lord." 
And  in  a  voice  so  like  Aliss  Warwick's  as  to  throw 
Cindie  into  violent  laughter,  the  Doctor  quoted : 
"  'The  Lord  loveth  whom  he  chasteneth  and  scourg- 
eth  every  son  whom  he  receiveth.'  " 

"It  gits  beyand  me,  chile,  de  way  you  kin  mock 
ole  Miss  'Ria,"  she  said,  picking  vip  the  little  chap's 
stockings  which  in  her  merriment  she  had  let  slip  to 
the  floor.    "How  soon  'fo'  Miss  Barbary  riv?" 

"She'll  be  here  on  the  3d  of  July." 

"Den  you  won't  have  to  buy  no  pop  crackers?" 

"No,  she'll  furnish  all  the  fireworks  necessary." 

"Who  comin'  wid  her?" 

"Rutherford  is  coming." 

"Bound  dat  devil's  coming." 

"Phyllis,  too,  is  one  of  the  party." 

"Ain't  no'  mo'  comin'?" 

"Two  others — Mrs.  Crane  and  son  of  Jersey  City." 

106 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         107 

"Who  is  her?" 

"A  kinswoman  of  my  sanctified  brother-in-law." 

"And  Miss  Barbary  took  it  on  herse'f  to  'vite 
dat  'oman  and  chile  to  come  'long?" 

"That's  all  right.  She  is  welcome  enough,  only 
she  is  a  type  of  woman  that  fatigues  me.  She  is  a 
parvenu  through  and  through.  Her  husband  is  super- 
intendent of  a  brewery,  and,  because  of  it,  she  imagines 
she  is  all  of  New  Jersey — the  feminine  part  of  it,  at 
any  rate.  But  enough  of  Mrs.  Crane  for  the  present. 
The  problem  of  accommodating  the  party  interests  me 
more  just  now.  There  are  five  rooms  upstairs — three 
that  are  reserved  for  guests.  If  they  are  not  enough 
I  presume  the  little  chap  will  have  to  give  up  his  room 
for  the  time  and  sleep  with  me,  as  he  used  to  do.  He 
would  do  it  gladly  enough,  I  know,  but  I'd  hate  to 
disturb  him,  he  has  such  a  poem  of  a  room  and  takes 
such  pride  in  it." 

"And  he  ain't  gwine  be  'sturbed,  de  chile  ain't. 
Can't  Miss  Barbary  and  Phyllis  take  one  room,  and 
dat  udder  'oman  and  her  chile  anudder,  and  de  room 
whar  lef — de  wing  room — is  plenty  large  and  plenty 
good  for  what-yo'-name — dat  devil  Rutherford,  I 
mean !  Lawdy !  De  times  I  used  to  have  wid  dat  little 
Satan!  Rec'lic'  de  day  he  flung  a  rock  at  dat  calf  and 
broke  de  po'  little  creter's  leg  and  how  bilin'  mad  it 
make  you?" 

"I  remember.  Rutherford  was  certainly  a  bad 
boy.  But  we'll  forgive  him  the  offenses  of  his  boyhood. 
He  is  a  man  now  and  has  doubtless  outgrown  the 
savagery  of  his  earlier  years.  He  may  overawe  us, 
however,  by  his  marvelous  wisdom,  coming  as  he  does 
from  the  seat  of  the  nation's  money-changers.  But  big 
head  is  epidemic  in  that  part  of  the  country,  and  the 
son  of  Van  Lew  and  Barbara  Demarest  could  hardly 
have  escaped  the  infection." 

The  physician  gathered  up  his  latest  papers  and 
magazines  and  sought  the  cool  of  the  oak-shaded  lawn. 


io8        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

There,  doffing  his  coat,  he  flung  himself  on  a  bench 
among  some  crepe  myrtle.  But  the  publications  he 
had  brought  to  read  lay  undisturbed  in  their  wrappers. 
The  beautiful  June  morning,  with  its  prodigality  of 
blossom  and  perfume,  possessed  greater  charm  for  him 
than  printer's  ink.  Loftier  poems  than  any  ever 
written  seemed  to  him  at  this  moment  the  brother- 
hood of  ancient  oaks  that  environed  his  home,  and  he 
thought  of  the  departed  generations  of  Custises  that 
had  doubtless  felt  as  strong  a  pride  as  did  he  in  the 
magnificent  old  trees. 

Suddenly  the  sound  of  Maud's  hoofs  awakened 
him  from  his  dreams  of  the  dead,  and  a  boy's  laugh 
broke  in  waves  of  melody  on  the  rose-scented  air, 
making  the  physician  as  happy  as  the  youngster  who 
w^as  laughing.  He  pulled  himself  to  a  sitting  posture 
and  peered  through  the  crepe  myrtle.  Custis  had 
alighted  from  Maud  and  stood  with  his  arm  around 
her  neck. 

The  Doctor  rose,  and,  emerging  from  his  retreat, 
moved  toward  the  gate. 

Custis,  seeing  the  beloved  form,  opened  the  gate 
and  glided  to  him.  Stooping,  the  physician  kissed 
the  young  mouth  lifted  to  his. 

"I  wanted  to  come  home  last  night,  Uncle  Pierre," 
said  the  lad.    "But  Mrs.  Harrison  wouldn't  let  me." 

"I  wasn't  uneasy ;  I  knew  you  were  in  good  hands. 
Well,  how  did  you  enjoy  Bessie's  clover  party?  And 
who  found  the  largest  number  of  four-leaf  clovers  ?" 

"This  kid.    Guess  how  many  I  found  ?" 

"Three?" 

"Cold  as  ice." 

"Six?" 

"Getting  warm." 

"Eight?" 

"Burning." 

"Nine?" 

"Yes,  nine." 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         109 

"Where's  your  prize?  Is  that  it — that  book 
stuffed  in  your  pocket?" 

Custis  fell  against  an  oak,  filling  the  air  with  the 
music  of  his  laughter. 

"What's  the  matter,  son  ?" 

"Did  you  hear  me  laughing  awhile  ago?" 

"Yes.    What  had  happened  so  funny  ?" 

"I  was  thinking  what  you  would  say  when  I 
showed  you  this  book," 

And  the  boy  drew  forth  the  little  volume  and 
handed  it  to  Dr.  Custis. 

The  latter  opened  the  book,  smiling  grimly. 
"  'Jo^ii^  Rockway ;  or,  Honesty  is  the  Best  Policy,'  " 
reading  the  dual  title.  "But  what  sort  of  honesty  v/as 
Johnnie's?  The  goody-goody  brand,  I  presume?  Of 
course,  Johnnie  didn't  find  it  the  best  policy  to  be  a 
highwayman  or  burglar  or  pickpocket.  All  that  is  ex- 
tremely risky  business,  and  sooner  or  later  would  have 
landed  Johnnie  in  the  penitentiary.  Oh,  no,  Johnnie 
had  a  contempt  for  thieves  of  that  sort.  He  preferred 
to  get  hold  of  his  neighbor's  possessions  in  the  more 
subtle  way — business  acumen  is  the  polite  term  for 
it,  I  believe — and  this  he  found  the  best  policy.  Instead 
of  branding  him  as  a  criminal,  this  more  refined  method 
of  robbing  his  fellows  made  him  eminently  rich  and 
respectable.  It  gave  him  an  entree  into  society  and  a 
high  seat  in  the  congregation  of  saints.  Johnnie,  of 
course,  becamie  President  of  the  United  States  ?" 

"No,"  answered  Custis,  laughing. 

"No?  And  yet  he  went  to  Sunday  School,  loved 
his  church  and  his  country,  asked  God  to  bless  papa 
and  mamma  and  Johnnie  and  damn  the  rest  of  the 
world?  He  did  all  these  things,  besides  saving  his 
pennies,  and  yet  he  never  got  to  the  White  House  ?" 

"No ;  he  died,  Uncle  Pierre." 

"Johnnie  died  ?    Wasn't  that  sad  ?" 

The  physician  stroked  his  chin,  looking  at  his 
feet  in  solemn  abstraction. 


no    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"And  the  angels  kidnapped  honest  Johnnie  ?  Per- 
haps they  wanted  another  httle  choir  boy.  My !  How 
Cousin  Maria  would  be  shocked  to  hear  me  talk  so!" 

"By  the  way,  she  stopped  me  as  I  was  riding  by 
the  house  and  made  me  go  in  to  get  a  glass  of 
lemonade." 

"What's  the  matter  with  that  woman?  The  ex- 
travagance of  her !  Lemonade !  Lemonade !  And 
she  cut  a  lemon — a  whole  lemon  for  you,  son?  And 
you  an  unbaptized,  unregenerate  young  pagan!  Sup- 
pose you  take  Maud  to  the  pasture  and  then  come  back 
and  read  all  about  little  Johnnie  to  Uncle  Pierre." 

Custis  sprang  astride  Maud,  and  with  a  neigh  of 
delight  she  galloped  off. 

Dr.  Custis  watched  them  until  they  were  hidden 
among  the  trees  of  the  orchard,  beyond  which  stretched 
the  pasture  over  acres  of  as  fine  grazing  land  as  lay 
along  the  James. 

"A  week  more  and  they  will  be  here,"  he  mused. 
"And  our  heaven  will  be  turned  into  hell.  For  wherever 
Barbara  is,  there  hell  is.  I  feel  just  as  if  she  were 
going  to  make  the  little  chap  her  particular  target.  I 
have  never  enlightened  her  on  the  matter  of  his  origin 
— a  fact  which,  of  course,  has  only  served  to  accentuate 
her  unreasoning  bitterness  toward  him,  and  in  the 
years  she  has  kept  away  she  has  been  piling  up  venom 
until  now  she  can  contain  herself  no  longer.  She  must 
see  the  boy  face  to  face ;  she  must  vent  her  spite  upon 
him,  else  she  will  go  mad  or  die  of  the  pressure  of 
accumulated  hate.  She  is  coming  here  for  no  other 
purpose.  Now,  let  her  attempt  it !  She  can  say  what- 
ever she  likes  to  me ;  I  have  been  used  to  it  all  my  life. 
But  just  let  her  dare  wound  him — that  Christ-fibcred 
boy,  who  himself  never  wounded  anybody  or  anything 
in  his  life,  whom  everybody  loves,  at  whose  coming 
everybody  smiles,  even  loveless  old  Maria  Warwick! 
Yes,  just  attempt  it,   Mrs.  Demarest,  and  you  will 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         in 

find  me  more   ferocious  than  any   tigress   that   ever 
fought  in  defense  of  her  cub !" 

After  a  Httle  while  Custis  returned,  eating  a  June 
apple.  In  his  left  hand  was  another,  larger  and  mel- 
lower, which  he  slipped  into  the  physician's  hand. 

"Custis,  son,"  began  the  Doctor,  pocketing  the 
apple,  "you  hear  mammy  and  I  refer  now  and  then  to 
my  sister,  Mrs.  Demarest?" 

"Yes,  Uncle  Pierre.  Has — has  anything  happened 
to  her?" 

"No,  but  something  is  going  to  happen  to  us.  She 
is  coming  to  see  us  next  week." 

He  drew  a  series  of  sighs. 

"It  is  not  pleasant  to  say  what  I  am  going  to  say 
of  Barbara,"  he  resumed,  "but  I  feel  as  if  I  ought  to 
tell  you  what  sort  of  a  woman  she  is,  to  prepare  you 
in  a  way  for  any  treatment  you  are  likely  to  receive 
from  my  sister.  If  I  were  asked  to  name  the  most 
unlovable  person  I  ever  knew,  truth  would  compel 
me  to  name  Mrs.  Demarest.  She  is  selfishness  incar- 
nated. She  speaks,  she  acts,  as  if  she  were  the  only 
person  born  with  any  rights,  as  if  everybody  else  were 
born  to  serve  her." 

"She  is  nothing  like  you  then,"  remarked  Custis, 
feeling  somewhat  depressed. 

"Before  she  was  nineteen  she  incurred  the  ever- 
lasting wrath  of  father  and  mother.  She  married  a 
carpet-bagger!  For  a  southern  girl  to  do  such  a  thing 
in  those  days  meant  disinheritance  and  ostracism.  And 
Barbara  had  to  suffer  the  penalty  of  her  rash  act.  Thus 
cast  from  the  parental  roof,  and  with  the  door  of  every 
southern  home  closed  against  her,  she  followed  her 
profligate  husband  to  New  York,  where,  shortly  after- 
wards, he  became  conventionally  decent  and  entered 
the  Methodist  ministry." 

The  speaker  paused  to  brush  away  a  measuring 
worm  ascending  his  sleeve. 

"The  South-hating  Republican  sheets  of  the  North 


112         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

made  great  capital  of  the  event.  Barbara  was  described 
as  a  beautiful,  spirited  southern  girl,  who,  because  of 
her  loyal  views  and  her  marriage  to  a  gallant  Federal 
officer,  had  been  cruelly  discarded  by  her  heartless 
Bourbon  parents  and  driven  forth  with  her  brave 
husband  from  the  wicked  rebel  community.  Father 
was  painted  as  black  as  Republican  venom  could  do  it. 
His  tyranny  as  parent  was  not  only  shown  up,  but  he 
was  also  portrayed  as  the  crudest  of  slaveholders, 
while  in  truth  his  love  for  his  slaves  and  their  devotion 
to  him  were  known  far  and  wide.  No  Custis  except 
Barbara  was  ever  known  to  be  cruel  to  a  negro.  She 
would  slap  and  cuff  them  without  the  least  provoca- 
tion. One  day  I  found  poor  mammy  crying  piteously, 
because  Barbara,  in  one  of  her  devilish  tempers,  had 
struck  the  poor  creature  over  the  head  with  a  clothes 
brush.  Another  time,  because  Aurelius's  mother, 
who  was  her  maid,  didn't  do  something  for  her  as 
well  as  she  wished  it  done,  she  sprang  at  poor  Octavia 
and  pushed  her  all  the  way  down  the  stairs.  We  were 
all  frightened  out  of  our  wits.  We  thought  surely 
the  girl  was  dead,  but,  to  our  relief,  she  was  still 
breathing  when  father  picked  her  up.  She  received 
internal  injuries,  however,  of  which  she  died  in  less 
than  three  months.  She  had  just  come  out  of  her  con- 
finement with  Aurelius  when  the  thing  happened ; 
which  made  the  deed  doubly  atrocious.  Father  and 
mother,  fiery  secessionists  and  believers  in  slavery  as 
they  were,  were  never  the  same  after  Octavia's  death, 
because  they  felt,  as  I  feel  to  this  day,  and  always 
shall,  that  Barbara  Custis  murdered  Aurelius's 
mother!" 

"That  was  terrible !"  exclaimed  Custis,  shudder- 
ing.    "How  could  she  ever  be  happy  after  that?" 

"Nothing  she  does  ever  moves  her  to  compunc- 
tion. She  would  feci  no  remorse  if  she  had  killed  a 
hundred  negroes." 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         113 

"Was  her  husband,  apart  from  his  being  a  carpet- 
bagger, a  bad  man  ?    You  called  him  a  profligate." 

"And  he  was  a  profligate — the  meanest  I  ever 
knew.  He  was  destitute  of  honor,  a  stranger  to 
decency.  He  was  a  bully,  a  sneak,  a  vulgarian.  And 
he  is  the  same  to-day  as  he  was  in  those  days,  despite 
the  sanctimonious  role  he  is  playing  to  the  tune  of 
$5,000  a  year.  It  seems  incredible  that  a  congrega- 
tion could  tolerate  such  a  man  as  Van  Lew  Demarest ; 
but,  from  all  I  can  glean,  his  parishioners  are  made 
up  largely  of  the  new  rich  and  their  sycophants — snobs 
and  parvenus — who,  indeed,  would  be  satisfied  with 
no  other  sort  of  man.  Yes,  the  marriage  of  my  sister 
to  this  fellow  Demarest,"  continued  Dr.  Custis,  after 
a  minute's  pause,  "was  a  crushing  humiliation  to  us. 
Father  and  mother  writhed  beneath  the  shame  of  it 
the  remainder  of  their  lives.  The  loss  of  all  their 
slaves,  the  killing  of  my  twin  brothers,  Warwick  and 
Spottswood,  at  Newmarket — none  of  these  calamities 
was  as  severe  a  blow  to  them  as  was  this  mad  act  of 
Barbara's.  The  emancipation  of  the  negroes  and  the 
devastation  of  war  reduced  us  to  comparative  poverty. 
When  father  died  there  was  little  else  than  Holly  Hill 
left  of  the  Custis  estate,  and  to  me  he  bequeathed  the 
plantation,  cutting  Barbara  off  without  a  cent.  She 
has  never  forgiven  me  for  her  disinheritance,  as  if 
I  had  had  anything  to  do  with  it.  If  I  had  been  dis- 
posed to  divide  with  her  and  the  blackguard  to  whom 
she  is  married — who,  by  the  way,  had  publicly  boasted 
that  he  would  one  day  be  master  of  Holly  Hill — I 
should  have  found  my  hands  tied.  Father  had  done 
that  securely.  The  will  declared  that  in  the  event  of  any 
attempt  on  my  part  to  divide  the  estate  with  my  sister, 
Barbara  Demarest,  from  any  sentiment  of  mistaken 
justice  or  misplaced  generosity,  I  was  to  forfeit  the 
whole.  Barbara  knows  all  this,  and  yet  she  has  nagged 
me  and  abused  me  shamefully,  and  that  carpet-bagger 
cur,  too,  has  had  a  lot  to  say  in  the  matter.     They 


114        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

threatened  to  contest  the  will,  Ijiit  they  never  dared, 
they  saw  the  weakness  of  their  case  so  clearly." 

"Feeling  toward  you  as  she  does,  why  should 
she  wish  to  come  here?"  asked  Custis. 

"Well  might  you  ask  such  a  question,  son.  I  have 
asked  it  of  myself  repeatedly  since  I  received  her  let- 
ter. This  will  make  her  second  visit  to  Holly  Hill 
since  she  first  went  to  New  York  with  Van  Lew  Dem- 
arest.  Of  course,  she  didn't  dare  come  here  while 
father  lived.  He  had  not  been  dead  six  months,  how- 
ever, before  she  came.  It  was  not  because  she  wanted 
to  see  me,  not  because  she  loved  me.  It  was  because 
she  hated  me,  because  she  wanted  to  Jiave  it  out  with 
me,  to  use  her  words.  The  following  year  you  came, 
enabling  me  to  return  an  emphatic  affirmative  to  the 
question,  Is  life  worth  living?  She  was  furious  when 
she  learned  you  were  here — furious  because  she  thought 
Uncle  Pierre  would  leave  you  Holly  Hill  at  his  death, 
as  he  will  certainly  do.  She  has  been  threatening  us 
with  another  visit  ever  since  you  came,  and  at  last, 
she  is  coming.  This  time  it  is  to  have  it  out  with  both 
of  us,  hut  with  you  particularly !" 

"With  me?  What  have  I  done  to  her?"  asked 
the  lad,  wonderingly. 

"Nothing,  son,  nothing.  You  are  here ;  Uncle 
Pierre  loves  you  as  if  you  were  his  own  son ;  you  will 
inherit  what  little  Uncle  Pierre  leaves  behind.  This 
is  the  ground  of  her  grudge  against  you.  It  has  been 
growing,  has  this  grudge,  all  the  years  you  have  been 
here,  and  she  must  have  it  out  with  you,  like  the  she- 
devil  she  is.  But  fear  not.  Uncle  Pierre  will  stand  by 
his  boy,  though  a  thousand  she-devils  come  to  rend 
you.  I  have  told  you  all  this  because  I  thought  "it 
wise  to  prepare  you  for  anything  she  may  say  or  do. 
Promise  me  this :  You  will  take  to  heart  nothing  she 
says  to  you,  nothing  she  does  to  you,  no  matter  how 
hellish  it  is  in  its  cruelty?" 

"Yes,  LTncle  Pierre,  for  your  sake." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

"Far'well,  Mr.  Hap'ness.  Mouty  sorry  to  tell 
you  'vity.  Howdy,  Mr.  Trouble?  Walk  in,  suh. 
Lemme  res'  yo'  hat." 

"Who  in  de  name  of  Gawd  is  you  jabberin'  to, 
granny  ?" 

"Who  I  jabberin'  to?  Dat  any  yo'  business, 
boy?  I  was  jes'  tellin'  Mr.  Hap'ness  whar  bin  livin' 
wid  us  all  dese  yeahs — jes'  tellin'  de  gen'man  'vity 
and  tellin'  Air,  Trouble  to  come  in  and  make  hisse'f 
at  home  long's  he  done  come  widout  anybody  axin' 
him  to." 

Aurelius  gave  one  of  his  characteristic  laughs, 
the  woods  resounding  with  the  mirthful  echo  of  it. 

And  just  here  Dr.  Custis,  equipped  for  his  drive 
to  Elk  Bluff,  appeared  on  the  scene. 

"I  am  glad  you  are  going  with  the  wagon, 
'Relius,"  he  said.  "There  will  be  a  lot  of  heavy  trunks 
and  other  baggage  to  lift,  and  you  are  so  much  stronger 
than  your  grandfather." 

"Dat's  de  way  I  look  at  it,  Marse  Pierre,"  returned 
the  mulatto  giant.  "I  spec  dar'll  be  a  whole  passel 
of  big  trunks,  as  you  say." 

"Yes,  each  of  the  women  will  bring  a  department 
store  with  her,  and  no  doubt  Rutherford  will  have  as 
elaborate  a  wardrobe,  he  is  such  an  up-to-date  dresser 
and  all-round  sport.  I  imagine  he  changes  his  clothes 
before  every  meal." 


Ii6        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"He  sho  is  one  dandy  if  he  do  dat,"  grinned  Au- 
relius. 

"He  one  fool,  whyn't  you  say  and  be  done  wid 
it,"  grunted  his  matter-of-fact  grandmother. 

"I  gwine  on  to  de  depo',  I  is,"  said  AureHus, 
springing  into  the  wagon. 

"All  right,  'Relius.  Move  on.  We'll  overtake 
you  on  the  road." 

And  with  a  word  of  command  to  his  team,  Aure- 
Hus  started  off,   singing  a   Shiloh  hymn  popular   at 
"baptizings" : 
"Down  in  de  Jurd'n,  down  in  de  Jiird'n,  down  in  de  Jur-dan 
\^Tiar  John  de  Baptis'  baptized  de  Son  of  Man." 

"It  will  be  about  sundown  before  we  come  back, 
mammy,"  said  Dr.  Custis,  as  he  got  into  the  carriage. 
"You  know  the  long  distances  we  have  to  cover  going 
and  returning,  and  there  is  always  the  possibility  of 
the  train's  being  late." 

Here  Custis  came  bounding  out  of  the  house, 
immaculately  collared  and  cuffed,  and  wearing  a  dainty 
blue-and-white  negligee  shirt  with  a  crimson  tie. 

The  physician  surveyed  him  from  head  to  foot 
with  a  proud  smile  as  he  paused  beside  the  carriage. 

"You  arc  a  swell  boy,  and  no  mistake!  Isn't  that 
what  Virginia  called  you?" 

"That's  what  she  said  I  was." 

"And  she  was  right.  Wasn't  she,  mammy?  You 
would  never  take  that  boy  for  a  hayseed  to  see  him 
diked  up  like  that,  would  you?" 

"And  he  ain't  none,  neider.  Is  you,  honey?  You 
lives  in  de  country,  but  you  a  sight  mo'  citified- 
lookin'  dan  any  de  town  folks  whar  come  up  heah  fum 
down  dar.  Ain't  nuffin  countrified  rior  po'fo'ksy  "bout 
mammy's  boy,  is  dar?  No,  suh!  Miss  Barb'ry 
ain't  got  nuffin'  'tall  like  dis,"  putting  her  arm  about 
the  boy's  form,  "is  she,  Marse  Pierre?  Gawd  love 
you !  Mammy  do  feci  sometimes  like  she  could  squez 
and  squez  you  tell  dar  ain't  no  sweetness  lef  o'  you." 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         117 

"Mammy,  don't  you  kill  any  of  my  roosters!" 
exclaimed  the  boy,  as  she  gently  released  him  from 
her  embrace  and  he  sprang  up  beside  Dr.  Custis. 

"Don't  you  gni  yo'sef  no  werriment,  honey,  'bout 
dat.  Mammy's  ole  mouf  mout  water  for  fried  rooster 
leg  tell  Gab'el  blow  his  trumpet  and  she  ain't  gwine  to 
kill  none  of  yo'  roosters  for  Miss  Barb'ry,  nor  any  of 
her  ole  carpet-bagger  folks  if  dey  was  starvin'  for 
chicken.  I'd  stan'  up  in  'fiance  of  Isr'el  for  you  and  yo' 
roosters.  No,  suh,  dey  mout  strut  round  heah  thicker'n 
hoppergrasses  in  de  pasture  and  mammy  she'd  let  'em 
strut.     She  ain't  pesterin'  yo'  roosters,  honey." 

When  they  had  covered  about  half  a  mile,  Custis 
asked : 

"What  kind  of  a  young  man  is  your  nephew.  Uncle 
Pierre?" 

"He  is  everything  you  are  not.  I  am  afraid  my 
pure  boy  will  find  my  nephew's  atmosphere  nothing 
less  than  stifling." 

"And  your  niece?     Is  she,  too,  unlovable?" 

"I  don't  know,  son.  I  haven't  seen  Phyllis  since 
she  was  a  baby.  So  I  am  not  prepared  to  size  her  up 
until  I  have  seen  her  again.  She  is  about  your  age. 
But  lovable  or  unlovable,  she  will  cause  no  decline  in 
Yancey  stock,  I  am  sure." 

"She'll  cause  no  slump  there,"  answered  the  boy, 
with  a  dash  of  audacity  foreign  to  him.  And  then  he 
blushed  because  of  it. 

"Though  I  have  never  seen  Virginia,"  said  the 
Doctor,  "I  have  conceived  a  positive  affection  for  the 
child.  I  find  myself  thinking  of  her  continually.  I 
can't  get  it  out  of  my  head  that  she  is  the  one  destined 
to  round  out  your  life,  to  make  it  complete." 

Custis  reached  up  and  snapped  off  a  dogwood 
branch  tickling  his  cheek,  and,  sinking  back  in  his  seat, 
began  to  strip  it  of  its  leaves. 

"And  Mrs.  Crane?"  he  said,  pursuing  his  inqui- 


ii8         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

ries,  after  a  minute  or  so.  ''Shall  we  get  no  pleasure 
out  of  her  coming?" 

"None  whatever.  She  is  not  of  the  better  and 
broader  class  of  northern  people  that  lead  the  nation 
in  progressive  thinking.  She  is  of  the  narrow,  provin- 
cial type  of  Yankee — the  huckstering  type — with 
whom  the  question  'Will  it  pay  ?'  is  always  uppermost. 
She  is  a  Republican,  of  course,  as  her  sister-fossil  in 
the  South  is  a  Democrat,  because  it  is  the  respectable 
thing,  and,  like  her  Dixie  counterpart,  she  adheres 
to  orthodoxy  in  religion  as  in  politics.  Say,  isn't  some- 
body behind  us  ?" 

"Yes,  Uncle  Pierre.  Good  morning,  George," 
said  Custis,  as  a  lad  of  his  age,  painfully  attenuated, 
appeared  on  horseback  alongside  the  carriage. 

"Howdy,  Custis?    Howdy,  Doctor?" 

"Good  morning,  George.  How  are  the  people 
around  Antioch?" 

"Much  as  common,  'cept — 'cept " 

"Your  mother?    Does  she  want  me?" 

"Yas,  suh.  She  is  right  smartly  complainin',  ma 
is.  She  in  ter'ble  pain  all  day  long,  and  pappy  he  send 
me  off  after  you." 

"I'll  have  to  leave  you,  son,"  said  the  physician 
aside  to  Custis.  "There  is  another  little  one  due  at  the 
Hatcher  home,  and  as  I  was  present  when  the  others 
came,  I  presume  I'll  have  to  be  on  hand  to  welcome 
this  one.  But  I  hate  to  leave  you  to  face  the  enemy 
alone.     It  looks  cowardly.    What  shall  I  do?" 

"Go  to  Mrs.  Hatcher.  I'll  come  out  of  the  ordoal 
unscathed." 

"Brave  boy!"  slapping  Custis  on  the  arm. 

Then  he  turned  to  young  Hatcher. 

"Well,  George,"  he  said,  stcj^ping  out  of  the  car- 
riage. "My  horses  all  happen  to  be  in  service  just  now. 
Do  you  think  we  can  make  the  trip  together  on  your 
horse  ?" 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         119 

"I  reckon  we  can,  sir.  Me  and  pappy  we  ride  any 
time  that  way.    We  ain't  got  but  one  horse,  you  know." 

"Well,  you  and  I  will  attempt  it  together." 

The  lad  sprang  to  the  ground.  Doctor  Custis 
got  into  the  saddle,  and  George  climbed  up  behind  him. 

"Hold  fast  to  me,  son.  Hug  me  round  the  waist — 
tight,  now,  just  as  if  I  were  your  sweetheart.  I  want 
no  broken  bones  to  mend  in  addition  to  my  other  job." 

Here  he  leaned  over  toward  the  carriage  and  drew 
Custis's  face  to  his. 

"Good-bye,  son,"  he  murmured,  kissing  the  young- 
ster thrice.    "Good-bye.     Keep  a  brave  front." 

Within  a  mile  of  Elk  Bluff  Custis  overtook  Aure- 
lius  in  the  wagon,  and  together  they  jogged  on,  talking, 
until  they  came  to  Hardie's  store.  Custis  had  just  time 
to  shake  hands  with  the  merchant  and  to  slake  his 
thirst  when  the  train  pulled  into  the  station. 

"Who  y'all  come  to  meet?"  asked  Mr.  Hardie. 

"Uncle  Pierre's  sister,  Mrs.  Demarest,"  answered 
Custis. 

"Barbary  Custis!     Moses  and  the  Prophets!" 

And  the  storekeeper  inwardly  prayed  that  the 
cup,  if  possible,  might  pass. 

Miss  Cornelia  Carter,  who  had  been  a  girl  with" 
Mrs.  Demarest,  dropped  a  remnant  of  polka-dot  satine 
that  had  captured  her  fancy,  and  gasped  vicariously 
for  the  community. 

Aunt  Millie  Bowles  groaned  distressingly,  and, 
turning  from  some  bandannas  of  barbaric  hue,  sought 
in  her  pipe  a  solace  for  her  sudden  sorrow  of  soul. 

In  the  meantime  the  visitors  had  alighted.  There 
was  a  young  man  stylishly  dressed ;  stout,  dark,  hand- 
some. There  were  two  women — comely,  cold-eyed 
Amazons,  betraying  a  savage  love  for  scarlet  that 
would  have  turned  the  most  amiable  bull  into  an  illus- 
tration of  the  strenuous  life.  There  was  a  girl  of 
about  fifteen — a  fair-faced,  gentle-aired  child  in  sailor 
hat,  white  shirtwaist  and  blue  skirt.     And  there  was 


I20        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

a  little  lad  of  seven — not  more — playing  patriot,  be- 
cause, in  his  innocence,  he  couldn't  see  the  wickedness 
of  it.  He  wore  a  soldier  suit  and  cap,  and  a  sword 
depended  from  his  belt.  Two  flags  waved  from  his 
breast,  another  from  his  cap  and  a  fourth,  larger  than 
the  others,  was  in  his  hand. 

One  of  the  Amazons  was  dark,  the  other  fair. 
Custis  approached  the  dark  one,  because  he  had 
been  told  that  Mrs,  Demarest  was  a  brunette.  He 
doffed  his  hat,  saying  winsomely: 

"This  is  Mrs.  Demarest,  I  presume?" 

She  started,  betraying  a  look  of  unmistakable 
admiration,  as  did  the  others  of  the  party ;  but  the 
next  moment,  incensed  with  herself  for  her  unguard- 
edness,  she  became  severely  Barbara  Demarest  again, 

"Where's  Pierre  Custis  ?"  she  demanded,  ignoring 
the  boy's  question. 

"We  started  to  the  station  together,  but  he  was 
overtaken  on  the  way  and  had  to  go  to  see  a  ladv 
who  is  ill." 

"It  must  have  been  a  very  urgent  case." 

"It  was." 

"Very,  very  urgent?" 

"It  was," 

She  turned,  with  a  metallic  laugh,  to  Mrs,  Crane 
and  whispered  something;  at  which  the  latter  giggled 
vulgarly, 

"Don't  you  girls  know  it's  shockingly  bad  form 
to  whisper  in  company  ?"  observed  Rutherford,  clearing 
his  throat, 

"Oh,  you  be  quiet,  old  Nosey!"  snapped  his 
mother. 

"You  hadn't  ought  to  do  it,"  insisted  the  young 
man.  Then  he  laughed  knowingly,  "You  think  I 
don't  know  what  you  girls  were  whispering  about? 
Say,  I  wonder  if  mother  and  child  are  doing  well  under 
the  circumstances,"  he  added,  caressing  his  nuistache 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         121 

and  looking-  up  at  the  sky.    "Shall  I  wire  'Doc'  to  keep 
us  supplied  with  bulletins  ?" 

"You  horrid  thing!"  cried  Mrs.  Crane.  "Ain'<- 
he  terrible,  Bab?" 

"He  is  a  naughty  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Demarest. 

"He  is  something  fierce,"  added  the  lady  from 
Jersey,  where  everything  is  either  "lovely"  or  "fierce." 

Custis,  repelled  by  their  coarseness,  looked  wist- 
fully toward  Aurelius,  longing  to  be  with  him ;  but  he 
was  just  at  the  beginning  of  his  disagreeable  task.  So 
he  ventured  again: 

"Our  carriage  is  here,  Mrs.  Demarest,  to  take  you 
and  your  friends  home.  Our  wagon  is  also  here  to 
take  your  baggage.  If  you  will  kindly  give  me  the 
checks,  I  will " 

"It  isn't  a  lady's  place  to  attend  to  her  baggage 
when  a  gentleman  is  traveling  with  her,"  retorted  Mrs. 
Demarest.  "Rutherford,  you  have  the  checks.  Give 
them  to  this  boy." 

"Sure,  I've  got  'em." 

He  drew  them  from  his  pocket  and  handed  them 
to  Custis. 

"We've  three  trunks  and  five  wheels,"  he  said. 
"I  wish  you'd  see  that  the  wheels  aren't  damaged  in 
any  way." 

Custis,  glad  to  escape  from  them  even  for  a 
moment,  hastened  to  where  Aurelius  stood  and  gave 
him  the  checks. 

"I'll  help  you  with  the  trunks  and  bicycles, 
'Relius." 

"You  ain't  gwine   do   no   sich   thing,   spilin'   yo' 
Sunday   close   for   nothin'.      'Sides,    I'd   ruther   break/ 
my  back  squar'  in  two  dan  see  you  make  a  nigger  of! 
yo'  sef  for  Miss  Barb'ry  or  any  her  tribe."  ' 

"But  I  want  to  help  you,  'Relius,"  pleaded  the 
lad. 

"You  ain't  gwine  do  it,  I  don't  keer  how  you  want 


122         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

to.    Go  'long,  boy  !    Mind  what  I  say  !    Plenty  niggers 
hangin'  round  heah  to  gin  me  a  lif ." 

Custis  reluctantly  returned  to  the  visitors. 

'This  way,  please,"  he  said,  addressing  Ruther- 
ford this  time,  hoping  to  receive  more  decent  treat- 
ment from  the  young  man  than  he  had  received  from 
his  mother.  Reaching  the  carriage,  he  stepped  aside 
and  allowed  Rutherford  to  do  the  office  of  gallant. 

"I  guess  I'll  have  to  ride  with  you,  as  the  carriage 
is  full,"  said  young  Demarest,  as  he  climbed  up  beside 
Custis. 

Then  Trojan  and  Maud,  in  obedience  to  their 
young  master's  word  to  move,  started  off  gaily  in  the 
direction  of  Holly  Hill. 

"I  don't  guess  it  is  as  swift  down  here  as  up  at 
Coney  Island,"  remarked  Rutherford,  addressing  Mrs. 
Crane. 

"I  guess  not,"  replied  the  brewer's  wife,  to  whom 
Coney  Island  was  one  of  the  Seven  Wonders  of  the 
World. 

"By  the  way,"  said  young  Demarest  to  Custis, 
"I've  been  reading  in  the  Sun  lately  about  those  hay- 
seeds down  South  and  out  West — Populists,  I  believe, 
you  call  'em  ?    Any  of  the  lobsters  in  these  parts  ?" 

"Uncle  Pierre  is  a  Populist." 

The  embryo  banker  slapped  his  leg  and  laughed 
superiorly. 

"Doc  is  a  Populist,  is  he?  Well,  that's  a  good 
one." 

"Oh,  mamma,  look!"  cried  Carroll  Crane.  "What 
are  those  things  ?" 

"You  little  ass!"  exclaimed  his  mother.  "They  arc 
shccix  Don't  you  know  nothing?  Nobody  wouldn't 
think  you'd  ever  been  anywhere!" 

"When,  in  fact,  you  have  been  to  Elizabeth,  Rail- 
way and  Hoboken,  haven't  you.  kid?"  said  Rutherford. 

"Don't  people   down   South   live  on   nothing  but 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         123 

cabbage?"  sneered  Mrs.  Crane.  "We  keep  passing 
fields  and  fields  of  'em.    Look  now !" 

Rutherford  and  his  mother  exchanged  amused 
glances  and  then  both  laughed.  Even  poor  Custis 
smiled. 

"Who  is  the  ass  now  ?"  cried  Rutherford.  "That's 
one  on  you,  Lottie,  old  girl." 

"Ain't  them  cabbage?" 

"I  should  call  that  tobacco.  Ain't  I  right,  young 
man?" 

"That's  what  we  call  it  in  Virginia,"  returned 
Custis. 

"How  do  you  expect  me  to  know  what  tobacco 
is  if  I  never  saw  none  growing  before?"  demanded 
the  brewer's  spouse. 

"But  you  know  what  cabbage  is,  surely?"  said 
Mrs.  Demarest,  sneeringly. 

It  was  now  Carroll's  turn,  which  Mrs.  Demarest 
had  taken  from  him. 

"Then  how  do  you  expect  me  to  know  what  sheep 
are  if  I  never  saw  any  before?"  demanded  the  seven- 
year-old,  who  could  speak  better  English  than  could 
his  mother,  whose  age  was  six  times  seven. 

"Good  for  you,  kid !"  yelled  the  irrepressible  Ruth- 
erford. 

They  had  come  to  a  gate.  Custis  sprang  to  the 
ground  and  opened  it.  As  the  horses  started  to  pass 
through  Rutherford  seized  the  whip  and  laid  it  with 
all  the  force  he  could  command  upon  the  backs  of  the 
animals.  Unused  to  such  treatment,  the  gentle  crea- 
tures were  stung  in  an  instant  to  madness  and  plunged 
recklessly  ahead,  threatening  destruction  to  the  vehicle 
and  tragedy  to  its  occupants.  The  women  shrieked 
and  declared  they  would  be  killed  ;  the  children  moaned 
and  cried  in  abject  fright;  while  the  author  of  the  mis- 
chief, having  lost  his  head  completely,  stood  up,  pulling 
the  maddened  horses  first  in  one  direction  and  then  in 


124         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

the  other  and  calling  them  the  choicest  names  in  the 
vocabulary  of  the  Bowery. 

"Stop  that,  for  Heaven's  sake !"  thundered  Custis, 
in  a  voice  of  command  he  had  never  used  before. 

And  then  he  ran  forward  and  caught  the  fright*- 
ened  horses.  But  they  were  not  to  be  pacified  in  a 
moment,  even  by  the  sight  of  their  beloved  master. 
They  had  received  too  grievous  wounds ;  nobody  had 
ever  treated  them  so  before, 

"Maud !  Trojan !"  said  the  boy,  gently,  as  he 
planted  himself  before  them  and  threw  an  arm  about 
the  neck  of  each. 

This  calmed  them ;  they  had  recognized  his  voice, 
his  caress.  Still  they  were  not  themselves.  They  were 
as  little  children  sobbing  after  the  violence  of  their 
grief  is  spent.  And  the  lad  continued  to  soothe  them, 
talking  to  them  as  to  little  children  whose  feelings 
have  been  hurt. 

"Maud,  sweetheart !  I  didn't  do  it !  Trojan,  boy ! 
you  know  I  wouldn't  hurt  you !  There  now !  There 
now!  It's  all  right!  It  will  never  happen  again! 
Never !" 

And  they  understood ;  they  knew  he  hadn't  done  it. 
Tears  gathered  in  his  eyes ;  he  couldn't  restrain  them, 
much  as  he  desired  to  do  it  before  these  coarse,  cold 
upstarts.  It  was  if  the  lash  had  been  laid  on  his  own 
back,  he  felt  so  exquisitely  the  pain,  the  hurt  of  others, 
man,  beast  or  bird. 

"Please  don't  do  that  again,"  he  said,  returning 
to  his  seat  beside  Rutherford.  "Our  horses  are  not 
used  to  that  sort  of  treatment,  and  they  don't  under- 
stand it.    They  are  ruled  by  gentleness,  not  harshness." 

"What  in  the  devil  do  you  keep  a  whip  for  then? 
For  ornament?"  with  a  sneer. 

"It  is  not  kept  for  the  purpose  of  vulgarly  obtrud- 
ing our  mastership.  We  best  sliow  that  in  our  kindness 
to  them,  and  they  are  not  slow  to  recognize  it." 

"Mercy!    What  a  temper!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Dem- 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         125 

arest,  in  an  aside  to  Mrs.  Crane,  but  intended,  never- 
theless, for  the  boy's  ear. 

He  gave  her  words  the  he,  however,  by  driving  on 
in  serene  silence.  Uncle  Pierre  loved  him,  and  so  did 
everybody  else  whose  love  was  worth  having,  and  he 
smiled,  he  could  have  laughed,  because  of  the  joy  it 
gave  him. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Mrs.  Hatcher  had  been  safely  deHvered  of  her 
seventh  child,  and  the  grateful  husband  and  father 
stood  entreating  Dr.  Custis  to  accept  a  little  sum  of 
money  he  had  managed  to  lay  aside  for  the  purpose ; 
but  he  could  not  persuade  the  physician  to  pocket  the 
lucre  which  represented  so  much  self-denial. 

"I  don't  want  your  money,  Phil,  and  I  won't  have 
it,"  thundered  Dr.  Custis. 

"But,  Doctor,  it  ain't  right  for  me  never  to  pay 
you  nothing,"  argued  Hatcher.  "Here  you've  been 
tending  us  all  these  years  and  coming  to  Bettie  with 
every  child,  from  George  down  to  the  little  fellow 
just  arrived,  and  not  a  red  cent  have  you  ever  gOt  from 
me.    I  am  ashamed  of  myself." 

"And  I'd  be  ashamed  of  myself  to  take  a  cent  from 
you.  Are  you  better  off  now,  at  the  birth  of  your 
seventh  child,  than  you  were  when  the  first  came? 
If  you  were  not  able  to  pay  me  anything  then,  I  hardly 
think  you  are  now,  with  six  more  to  feed  and  clothe." 

And  this  lover  of  his  fellows  thought  of  the  little 
board  house,  with  its  bare  floors  and  walls ;  of  the 
coarse  fare  to  which  this  hard-working  man  and  his 
family  sat  down  day  after  day ;  of  the  shoddy  rai- 
ment, and  the  scantiness  of  it,  that  covered  their  bodies  ; 
of  the  gnarled  hands  and  prematurely  bent  form  of  the 
father ;  of  the  equally  bent  figure  and  habitually  tired 
expression  of  the  mother.  And  drink  was  not  the 
cause  of  Hatcher's  poverty.     No  man   was  "soberer 

126 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         127 

tHan  he,  no  man  worked  harder,  no  man  loved  his 
family  more. 

"You  won't  take  the  money,  then.  Doctor?"  said 
Hatcher,  at  last  convinced  of  his  inability  to  move  the 
physician. 

"Not  a  damned  cent  of  it!  And  if  you  mention 
the  subject  to  me  again  I'll  break  your  head !" 

Hatcher  grinned. 

"I  mean  it,"  asseverated  the  Doctor.  "Look  here, 
Phil,"  he  added,  in  softer  tones,  "why  is  it  your 
children  didn't  go  to  school  last  winter?" 

Hatcher  hesitated,  evidently  embarrassed. 

"I'd  jest  as  well  tell  the  truth  'bout  it.  Doctor." 
he  said  at  last.  "  'Twas  'cause  they  didn't  have  no 
shoes  fit  to  wear." 

"That's  what  I  was  told.  It's  an  outrage,  as  hard 
as  you  and  your  wife  work.  Now,  suppose  you  take 
the  money  you  are  trying  to  make  me  rob  you  of  and 
buy  shoes  for  the  youngsters.  See  to  it  that  they  are 
not  kept  from  school  next  session  on  that  account. 
My  boy  has  never  had  to  stay  from  school  because  he 
had  no  shoes,  and  why  should  your  children?  You 
work  harder  than  I  do.  For  all  I  do  is  to  gallop  about 
the  country,  shortening  the  route  to  heaven  for  you 
blood-bought  saints  and  lengthening  the  road  to  hell 
for  myself  by  the  exercise  and  fresh  air  I  get  out  of 
the  business.    But  I  must  go.    It's  half  past  nine." 

It  was  half  past  ten  when  he  came  in  sight  of 
home.  The  lights  were  all  out,  and  appearances  in- 
dicative of  utmost  serenity.  If  there  had  been  a  storm, 
a  calm  had  followed,  and  everybody,  if  not  sleeping 
the  sleep  of  the  just,  was  at  least  asleep,  or  seemed 
to  be. 

He  stabled  Hatcher's  horse  and  started  toward  the 
house.  The  moonlight  revealed  the  figure  of  old  Cin- 
die  seated  in  the  open  doorway. 

"I  thought  you'd  never  come,  honey,"  she  said, 
rising. 


128         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"Dear  old  heart!"  he  exclaimed,  taking  her  hand 
and  stroking  it  affectionately.  "What  keeps  you  out 
of  bed  so  late  ?" 

"De  devil— dat's  who !" 

"What  has  he  been  doing,  or  rather  she?" 

"Well  mout  you  say  she.  I  bin  sort  of  believing 
for  a  long  time  dat  de  devil  was  a  'oman.  Now,  I 
knows  it !  Don't  you  know  Miss  Barbary  ain't  bin  in 
de  house  no  time  'fo'  she  pitched  into  her  devilment?" 

'T  expected  that." 

"I  done  so,  too,  but  I  thought  she'd  come  to  it 
by  'grees.  Lawdy,  honey,  she  wussen  I  ever  seed  her 
in  her  young  days.  She  went  all  over  de  house  fum 
one  eend  to  de  udder.  Ain't  nuffin  'tall  slip  dem  eagle 
eyes  of  hern.  'Things  awful  spruced  up  'bout  heah/ 
sez  she,  scornful-like.  'Wouldn't  aknowed  de  ole  place ! 
Bran'  new  upright  pianny,  too !'  sez  she,  when  she  come 
to  de  parlor.  'De  ole  squar'  pianny  whar  bin  in  de 
family  so  long  ain't  good  'nough  now !  How  we  hay- 
seeds do  swell  up  !  Nuffin'  like  it !  Us  de  only  gravels 
whar  on  de  beach/  sez  she,  scoffin'-like,  and  den  she 
bus'  loose  in  dat  devil-wise  laugh  of  hern.  'Bath  in  de 
house,  'pon  my  soul,'  sez  she,  lif'in'  up  her  hands  and 
screamin'  like  she  done  gone  clar'  crazy.  'Yas,  bath 
in  de  house,  jes'  like  town  folks !  Whew !  Whew !' 
she  whistled,  and  den  she  grunted  and  den  she  whistled 
agin.  'We  sho  is  done  parted  fum  de  ancient  ways,' 
sez  she.  But  you  oughts  to  seed  her  when  she  come 
to  de  chile's  room.  Wouldn't  nobody  'sputed  dat  de 
devil's  one  'oman  den ;  no,  sub,  Brer  Jasper  hissef 
would  bin  bound  to  gin  in  and  cv'ry  Gawd's  one  of 
dem  Shiloh  niggers  too,  whar  stand  so  stiff  for  de 
letter  of  de  doctrine." 

"What  had  she  to  say  of  the  little  chap's  room  ?" 
asked  Dr.  Custis.  "You  know  it  was  her  room  when 
she  was  a  girl?" 

"  *I  never  had  no  sich  room  as  dis,'  sez  she  to  dat 
Yankee  white  'oman  whar  she  brung  wid  her,  'and  I 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         129 

was  a  Custis.  I  warn't  no  brat  witdoiit  a  name,  I  warn't, 
sez  she.  'Room  all  in  blue  and  white,'  sez  she,  so  mad- 
like  she  could  swar.  'Donnas  on  de  wall!'  sez  she, 
pinting  to  dem  pitchers  of  Jesus  and  his  ma  whar  Mrs. 
Nelson,  you  know,  sent  de  chile  Chris'mas'  'fo'  las'. 
'Brass  bedstid  and  springs !'  she  went  on.  'Why,  Ruth- 
erford, whar  lives  in  New  York  town,  ain't  got  no 
better  room  dan  dat  little  in'loper  is  got  heah,'  sez  she. 
And  she  even  went  and  pick  up  de  chile's  toothbresh 
and  his  nailbresh  and  his  ha'rbresh  and  his  closebresh, 
gruntin'  devil-like  as  she  flung  'em  down  agin.  And 
den  she  went  to  some  roses  whar  he  sot  on  his  desk 
dis  mawnin'  and  smelt  'em  and  turn  off  like  dey  don't 
smell  well  and  den  she  call  him  some'n  dat  sound  like 
asfedity.  I  dunno  what  in  de  name  of  Gawd  she 
mean  by  it.  She  suttin  didn't  mean  dat  de  chile  smell 
like  dat  stuff,  for  ain't  nufhn  smell  sweeter'n  he  do 
and  ain't  nuffin  smell  wussen  ole  asfedity." 

"Asafoetida ?"  repeated  Dr.  Custis.  "Oh!"  he 
added,  smiling  in  spite  of  himself.  "She  said  he  is 
aesthetic,  didn't  she?" 

"Dat's  what  she  call  de  chile!  Dat's  de  jaw- 
breaker she  flung  at  him !  What  Miss  Barbary  mean 
by  dat  word?" 

"It  is  a  word  applied  to  people  who  love  what  is 
beautiful — flowers,  for  instance.  She  used  it  properly 
in  his  case,  for  there  is  no  more  ardent  lover  of  the 
beautiful  than  he;  but  I  imagine  she  said  it  with  a 
sneer,  as  if  she  thought  it  presumptuous  of  him  to 
be  sesthetic." 

"Dat's  'zactly  de  way  she  sed  it.  'De  idee,'  sez 
she,  'of  puttin'  my  boy  in  dat  ole  wing  room  and  dis 
little  in'loper  and  brat  got  my  room !'  " 

^  "She  is  a  damned  fool!"  exclaimed  the  Doctor, 
beside  himself  with  wrath.  "H  it  had  been  necessary, 
Custis  would  cheerfully  have  given  up  his  room  for 
the  time,  and  it  would  have  been  my  wish  that  he 
should  have  done  so,  for  the  lesson  of  all  lessons  I 


130         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

have  tried  to  burn  into  the  httle  chap  is  to  think  of 
himself  last  in  all  things  and  on  all  occasions.  But 
when  that  she-devil  comes  into  my  house  uninvited 
and  essays  the  role  of  dictator,  I  will  see  her  in  hell 
before  I'll  submit  to  it!" 

"Hole  on,  honey !  Don't  git  off  yo'  handle  yit ! 
'Tain't  time.  You  ain't  hearn  all  she  done.  Think 
she  didn't  order  dat  devil  Rutherford's  trunk  and 
things  to  be  toted  up  and  sot  in  de  chile's  room  ?" 

"What?" 

"Dat's  what  she  done." 

"But  'Relius  didn't  obey  her?" 

"He  warn't  gwine  to  do  it,  and  I  warn't  gwine 
to  let  him  do  it.  He  swar  he  wouldn't.  And  den  she 
pitched  in  and  'bused  me  and  him  scan'lous.  But  we 
gin  her  good  as  she  send.  Den  de  chile  he  step  up, 
calm-like,  and  tole  'Relius  to  tote  de  trunk  to  his  room. 
'Relius  'fused  pint  blank  at  fus'.  Den  de  chile  he  laid 
his  hand  lovin'-like  on  'Relius's  arm  and  look  up  at 
'Relius  out  of  dem  paradise  blue  eyes  of  his  n.  Dat 
was  more'n  'Relius  could  stand,  'cause  you  know  he'd 
lay  down  out  dar  on  de  wood  pile,  dat  nigger  would, 
and  let  de  chile  chop  his  head  off,  he  love  de  chile  so. 
And  so  'Relius  stooped  down  to  take  up  de  trunk  and 
de  chile  he  stooped  down  to  hep  tote  it.  But  'Relius 
he  sot  it  down  agin  and  swar  he  wouldn't  tech  it  if 
de  chile  didn't  let  loose  it.  Tf  I  is  a  nigger.'  sez  'Relius, 
'dey  ain't  makin'  no  nigger  outen  you.'  And  de  chile  he 
had  to  let  loose,  'cause  he  see  'Relius  ain't  no  foolin'. 
Den  he  took  me  by  de  arm  and  march  me  'way." 

"My  boy !  My  little  hero !"  exclaimed  Dr.  Custis, 
suddenly  softened.  "You  have  outgrown  me,  little 
chap !  You  have  outstripped  your  teacher  in  ethics. 
Forbearance  I  desired  of  you,  but  such  as  you  have 
shown  I  did  not  expect.  Uncle  Pierre  could  not  have 
acted  as  you  did.  Never!  Even  now,  in  the  light  of 
your  divine  example,  I  feel  as  if  T  could  rush  up  stairs 
and  drive  the  whole  crowd  out  of  the  house.    Thev  are 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         131 

not  guests.  They  are  invaders.  I  regard  them  as 
nothing  else.  And  I  presume  that  young  cur,"  turning 
to  Cindie,  "stood  by  and  meekly  allowed  his  mother 
to  make  an  exhibition  of  herself  by  taking  the  reins 
of  authority  in  her  own  hands,  by  riding  ruthlessly 
over  the  rights  of  my  boy?  The  perfumed  puppy! 
If  he  had  had  a  spark  of  manhood  he  would  have 
ended  the  disgraceful  scene  by  insisting  that  his  trunk 
be  taken  to  the  room  assigned  him." 

"To  do  de  devil  jestice,"  said  Cindie,  "de  boy 
he  look  like  he  hated  it  moutily.  He  kep'  bitin'  his  lips 
and  mutterin'  to  hissef  like  he  wanted  to  tell  his  ma  to 
shet  up ;  but  you  know  he  didn't  dassent  'less  he  pre- 
par'd  to  die.  And  all  de  res'  of  'em  hated  de  way 
Miss  Barbary  carried  on,  even  dat  Yankee  white  'oman. 
De  chillen  dey  took  a  mouty  shine  to  de  chile  and 
when  Miss  Barbary  she  warn't  round  you  could  see 
'em  bofe — Miss  Barbary's  gal  and  de  little  make-like 
sojer  boy — sidin  up  whar  de  chile  was,  like  dey  feel 
so  sorry  for  de  way  Miss  Barbary  done,  like  dey  want 
to  love  him." 

"That's  the  way  of  children,"  said  the  physician. 
"God  bless  them !" 

"And  onct  when  Miss  Barbary  she  warn't  nowhars 
in  sight,  Phyllis  she  says  to  de  chile,  so  he  tole  me 
'Don't  mind  what  mamma  sez  to  you.  I'd  give  I  dunno 
what  if  she  wouldn't  carry  on  so,' " 

"Phyllis  is  all  right.  I  love  her  for  that,"  and  the 
Doctor's  voice  betrayed  an  unsteadiness.  "Where  is 
Custis?  In  my  room?" 

"  He  up  dar.    He  sot  out  heah  on  de  porch  wid 
me  tell  ten  o'clock  and  den  he  went  upstars  like  he 
ain't  got  a  friend  in  de  world.     He  hurt  to  de  quick  ' 
by  Miss  Barbary's  callin'  him  a  'brat'  and  'in'loper.'  " 

"She  didn't  call  him  so  to  his  face?"  stormed  the 
physician.  "Damn  her!"  he  muttered,  gnashing  his 
teeth. 

"No,  but  I  tole  him  what  she  called  him." 


132         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

''Oh,  mammy!  How  could  you  hurt  him  so?  I 
thought  you  loved  him  ?" 

"I  oughts  to  showed  mo'  sense  and  I  felt  jes' 
like  chokin'  my  ole  se'f  'rectly  arter  I  done  it,  when  I 
seed  how  it  bruise  his  po'  little  heart." 

"My  poor  little  boy!  They  have  hurt  you  no 
more  than  they  have  hurt  Uncle  Pierre." 

And  into  the  house  and  up  the  stairs  he  sped; 
possessed  of  the  longing  to  gather  his  idol  to  his 
heart. 

Custis  lay  in  bed,  his  eyes  turned  toward  the  door. 

"And  you  have  come  back  to  be  Uncle  Pierre's 
bed-fellow?"  said  the  physician  with  an  assumed  play- 
fulness, as  he  stooped  and  kissed  the  youngster. 

"You  don't  care,  do  you?"  said  the  bruised  boy, 
flinging  his  arm  around  the  Doctor's  neck  and  return- 
ing the  latter's  kiss. 

"Don't  ask  me  such  a  question,  Custis!  And 
don't  look  at  me  so,  if  you  don't  want  to  break  my 
heart.    What's  the  matter,  dear?    Tell  Uncle  Pierre." 

"I  don't  know !  Oh,  Eve  missed  you,  L^ncle 
Pierre,  as  I  never  missed  you  before.  I  thought  you 
would  never  come,  and  when,  at  last,  I  heard  you  com- 
ing up  the  road,  I  wanted  to  run  out  to  meet  you,  an.d 
then,  when  I  heard  you  talking  with  mammy  I  could 
hardly  stay  in  bed,  I  longed  so  to  go  to  you."' 

"Why  didn't  you  come  then?  How  strangely 
you  talk,  son!" 

The  boy  dropped  his  head  on  the  physician's 
breast  after  the  manner  of  a  tired  child. 

"I  know  I  am  not  a  Custis.  I  know  I  have  no  right 
here  " 

"Custis  I     Custis !     Don't !       Don't,  son !" 

"Then  I  am  no  interloper — no  brat?" 

"Interloper?  You  are  all  the  world  to  Uncle 
Pierre.  Have  you  been  with  me  all  these  years  and 
yet  doubt  that  I  love  you,  tliat  I  idolize  you?  Don't 
you  know  I  would  go  through  hell  for  you?     Don't 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         133 

you  know  I  would  defy  the  devil  and  all  his  hosts 
for  you?  I  have  never  loved  anybody  as  I  love  you, 
and  never  could,  either  in  this  world  or  the  world  to 
come.  And  knowing  this,  you  ask  Uncle  Pierre  such 
a  question?" 

"Forgive  me,  Uncle  Pierre.  I  am  not  myself. 
She  hurt  me  so,  Mrs.  Demarest  did,  by  what  she  said. 
I  am  sure  I  had  given  her  no  cause." 

"Of  course  not.  She  did  it  out  of  wanton  hellish- 
ness  ;  that's  all.  What  if  you  are  not  a  Custis  ?  She  is 
a  Custis,  and  I  loathe  her.  The  kinship  that  counts 
with  me — the  only  kinship,  after  all — is  that  of  the 
spirit." 

And  in  the  largeness  of  his  love  he  ran  his  arms 
beneath  the  body  of  the  huge  youngster  and  brought 
him  up  to  his  breast  as  though  he  were  a  babe.  And 
heart  to  heart,  they  passed  into  one  of  those  deep, 
exquisite  stillnesses  where  love  has  no  need  of  speech. 
And  out  of  the  silence  the  boy  came  healed  of  his 
hurt,  his  face  aglow  with  a  beatific  smile ;  the  man, 
his  wrath  burned  away  and  his  countenance,  like  the 
lad's,  as  radiant  as  if  he  had  been  where  God  was. 

"You'll  make  no  mention  of  what  happened  to- 
day, Uncle  Pierre?"  said  Custis,  when,  at  length,  the 
Doctor  had  undressed  and  laid  himself  down  beside 
him  for  the  night.  "You  will  greet  Mrs.  Demarest 
to-morrow  as  if  nothing  unpleasant  had  occurred?" 

"Is  this  your  wish,  little  one?"  asked  the  physi- 
cian. 

"Yes,  Uncle  Pierre,  and  you'll  grant  it,  for  my 
sake?" 

"For  your  sake,  yes." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

"Dear  me !  It's  so  slow  down  here !"  sighed  Mrs. 
Crane,  longing  alternately  for  the  tawdry  attractions 
of  Coney  Island  and  the  board  walks  of  Ocean  Grove. 

But  Carroll  was  not  at  all  homesick. 

"I  like  down  here,  mother,"  he  said. 

"You  do?" 

"Sure.     I  could  live  here  all  the  time." 

"You  could?" 

"Sure.  I  like  Uncle  Pierre,  and  Custis —  I  loz'e 
Custis.     Don't  you,  Phyllis?" 

"He's  all  right,"  answered  the  girl,  but  not  before 
she  had  cast  a  cautious  look  about  her. 

"Oh,  she's  upstairs  asleep,  if  you  are  looking  for 
Aunt  Bab,"  said  Carroll. 

"And  the  tigress  is  slumbering,  is  she?"  muttered 
Dr.  Custis,  who  sat  in  the  hall  reading.  "God  grant 
her  a  long  and  undisturbed  sleep — a  nap  as  long  as 
Rip  Van  Winkle's." 

"Custis  isn't  like  other  big  kids,"  continued 
Carroll. 

"What  makes  him  unlike  them,  Carroll?"  asked 
the  Doctor,  stepping  out  on  the  porch  where  the  chil- 
dren were. 

The  boy  looked  a  little  abashed. 

The  physician  sat  down,  taking  Carroll  on  his 
knee.  He  had  grown  quite  fond  of  the  little  fellow 
and  Phyllis,  chiefly  because  they  were  fond  of  Custis 
— a  courageous  thing  on  their  part,  he  thought,  in  the 

134 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         135 

face  of  Mrs.  Demarest's  violent  antipathy  to  the  youth. 

"Tell  me,  Carroll,  why  you  think  my  boy  is  unlike 
other  big  kids?" 

"Well,  he  doesn't  think  he  knows  it  all.  He 
doesn't  try  any  game  of  bluff  on  you ;  he  is  the  straight 
article.  He  isn't  fresh,  like  all  other  big  kids  I've  seen. 
I  wish  he'd  come  back." 

"Do  you  miss  him?" 

"Sure.  When  do  you  think  he  and  'Relius  will 
be  back,  Uncle  Pierre?" 

"Not  before  seven  o'clock." 

Here  Airs.  Crane  closed  "Thorns  and  Orange 
Blossoms,"  a  trashy  novel  she  had  bought  on  the  train, 
and,  rising  with  a  yawn,  went  up  to  her  room. 

"I  wanted  to  go  with  Custis  and  'Relius,"  said 
Carroll  confidentially  to  the  physician,  "but  mother 
she  wouldn't  let  me.  She  says  I  hadn't  ought  to  ride 
around  with  coons ;  it  isn't  proper." 

Dr.  Custis  laughed. 

"And  your  mother  doesn't  love  negroes?" 

"Nit  f  She  hates  'em.  She  says  she  thanks  the 
Lord  she  wasn't  born  a  coon,  they  are  so  black  and 
nasty." 

"What  hypocrites  you  Republicans  are!" 

Out  on  the  lawn  Rutherford  lay  stretched  in 
Custis's  hammock,  a  cigarette  between  his  lips,  a 
copy  of  the  New  York  Sun  fluttering  a  little  way  from 
him  upon  the  grass. 

"This  is  the  coolest  spot  I've  struck  this  summer," 
he  muttered.  "It's  a  fine  old  place.  I'd  like  to  have 
it  for  a  summer  home." 

He  brought  himself  out  of  his  recumbent  attitude 
and  gave  the  old  oaks  a  look  of  admiration. 

"It's  a  pity  the  old  dragon  cut  up  so  as  to  get  it 
in  the  neck  as  she  did  from  her  Bourbon  sire,"  he  said, 
resuming  his  reflections.  "The  old  place,  in  conse- 
quence, will  go  to  a  stranger  at  Doc's  death,  for  there 
is  no  doubt  that  kid  he's  so  stuck  on  will  get  all  he 


136        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

has.  But  I  am  not  so  sure  the  kid  is  a  strang-er.  He 
may  be  as  much  of  a  Custis  as  I  am,  only  he  didn't  get 
there  in  the  regular  way.  The  old  dragon  says  she'd 
risk  her  hopes  of  heaven  that  the  kid  is  Doc's.  But 
hell !  She  has  nothing  to  risk  there.  She  has  no  stock 
in  celestial  securities  to  wager." 

He  sprang  from  the  hammock,  and,  gathering  up 
the  scattered  sections  of  the  Sun,  sauntered  toward  the 
gate.    As  he  passed  through  he  encountered  Cindie. 

"Hello,  sweetheart!"  he  exclaimed,  sweeping  his 
hat  to  the  ground.  Then  taking  out  a  box  of  cigarettes, 
he  said:     "Have  one?" 

"Go  'long,  boy !    You  want  to  pizen  me  ?" 

"Didn't  I  catch  you  smoking  last  night  ?" 

"I  ain't  tryin'  to  git  out  it.  I  smoke  when  I  feels 
like  it,  but  I  smokes  'bacco,  and  it's  a  pipe  whar  I 
smokes.  'Taint  none  of  dem  pizen  paper  things  whar 
you  all  de  time  puffin'  at." 

He  laughed,  holding  the  offending  cigarette 
daintily  between  his  first  and  second  fingers. 

"One  would  suppose  that  being  dark  myself,  I 
would  like  blondes  more  than  brunettes,"  he  remarked. 
"But  I  don't.  I  have  always  been  partial  to  brunettes, 
and  do  you  know,  Lucinda,  sweetheart,  you  are  the 
most  pronounced  type  of  the  dark  beauty  I've  ever 
struck  ?" 

"Look  heah,  boy !  Don't  you  talk  none  dat  'sinu- 
atin'  talk  to  me.  I  is  a  decent,  wirtuous  nigger,  I  is. 
And  I  is  black,  black,  black !" 

"It's  needless  to  emphasize  that  fact.  I  could  feci 
the  darkness  of  you  if  I  couldn't  sec  it." 

"But  I  wants  it  fixed  on  you.  /  is  black!  I  is  a 
Ciistis  nigger!" 

"Then  how  is  it  your  grandson,  the  banana-col- 
ored 'Relius,  is  a  yellow  coon  ?" 

"Don't  you  fling  'Relius's  yallerness  in  my  teef, 
boy!  I  ain't  had  no  hand  in  makin'  him  yallor.  no 
more'n  Marse  Hunter  and  Miss  Margaret  had  in  havin' 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         137 

a  devil  for  a  grandson  like  you  is.  De  mother  of 
'Rclius  she  went  and  took  up  wid  one  dem  Perkins 
niggers,  same's  yo'  mother  went  and  took  up  wid  one 
dem  'PubHcan  scalawags  whar  swoop  down  on  us  arter 
de  war.    Dat's  how  come  'Relius  yaller!" 

"I  see.    And  the  Custis  coons  are  all  black?" 

"You  knows  dey  is  widout  axing  dat  fool  ques- 
tion. De  Custis  men  folks  dey's  all  bin,  as  fur  back  as 
you  trace  'em,  seemly  and  wirtuous  white  gen'men. 
Dey  ain't  believin'  in  mixin'  deir  blood  wid  nigger 
blood." 

"What  a  distinction  to  have  descended  from  so 
immaculate  a  line  of  men!  It  is  enough  to  give  a 
fellow  the  swelled  head." 

"You  ain't  no  Custis,  boy,  and  don't  you  'ceive 
yo'sef  in  sottin'  yo'sef  up  as  one." 

Rutherford  took  the  thrust  good-naturedly. 

"You  are  a  peach,  Lucinda,"  he  said.  "Pardon 
me ;  I  must  leave  you  now.  But  we'll  meet  again.  Aii 
revoir !" 

And  he  kissed  his  hand  and  strode  toward  the 
orchard. 

Dr.  Custis  still  sat  on  the  porch  with  the  chil- 
dren. Phyllis  stood  beside  him,  her  arm  encircling  his 
neck.  Carroll  sat  astride  his  leg  toying  with  his  watch 
chain. 

"I  move  that  Miss  Demarest  favor  us  with  some 
music,"  proposed  the  physician.  "Will  you  second  the 
motion,  Mr.  Crane?" 

"Sure,"  responded  the  little  Jerseyman. 

"But  I  might  awaken  mother,"  demurred  Phyllis. 

"I  hadn't  thought  of  that,"  said  her  uncle.  "We'll 
run  no  risks.     The  music  is  declared  off."  I 

"ril  tell  you  what  to  do.  Uncle  Pierre,"  said  Car-i 
roll.  "Read  Uncle  Remus  to  us.  You  needn't  read 
very  loud,  you  know." 

"Yes,  that's  the  very  thing,"  agreed  Phyllis. 
"Custis  read  some  of  the  book  to  us  yesterday,  and  I 


138        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

never  laughed  so  in  all  my  life.  He  can  read  exactly 
like  an  old  darky  talks.  Yes,  read  it  to  us,  Uncle 
Pierre — read  all  about  Brer  Rabbit  and  Brer  Fox." 

"And  Brer  Tarrypin  and  Sis  Cow  and  Sis  Turkey 
Buzzard,"  chimed  in  Carroll. 

"And  old  Miss  Swamp  Owl,"  said  Phyllis. 

The  importunity  of  the  youngsters  was  more  than 
the  Doctor  could  withstand,  and,  procuring  "Uncle 
Remus"  from  the  library,  he  returned  to  the  porch 
and  read  to  his  little  guests  of  the  adventures  of  Brer 
Rabbit  and  Brer  Fox  until  the  echo  of  Aurelius's  laugh 
came  up  from  the  direction  of  the  creek. 

"Custis  is  coming!  Custis  is  coming!"  cried  Car- 
roll, clapping  his  hands. 

And  Phyllis  showed  as  large  delight. 

The  book  was  laid  aside,  and  Brer  Rabbit  was 
forced  to  give  way  to  Custis  Christian  as  the  hero 
of  the  hour. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

Close  upon  the  heels  of  Custis's  return  came  the 
awakening  of  Mrs.  Demarest,  The  boy  had  hardly 
joined  the  merry  little  group  on  the  porch  when  she 
made  her  appearance. 

"You  have  had  a  long  sleep,  Barbara?"  said  her 
brother. 

"Sleep!  Sleep!"  she  repeated.  "I  haven't  slept 
a  wink !  You  would  think  one  could  sleep  till  dooms- 
day away  off  in  the  wilderness  like  this,  but  no !  you 
can't  get  a  minute's  rest  for  a  lot  of  loud-mouthed 
coons.  I  had  just  got  into  a  doze  when  that  nigger 
'Relius  aroused  me  by  that  nerve-racking  laugh  of  his. 
And  you  had  to  sneak  off  with  him,  did  you?"  opening 
fire  on  Custis. 

"I  went  with  him,  but  there  was  no  sneaking  about 
it,"  replied  the  boy,  dignifiedly. 

"It  is  not  his  nature  to  sneak,"  cried  Dr.  Custis, 
hotly.  "There  is  not  a  drop  of  craven  blood  in  that 
boy's  veins,  I  would  have  you  to  know." 

"May  be  if  you  knew  of  his  shocking  behavior  this 
morning  you  would  change  your  tune.  I  haven't  told 
him  yet,  young  fellow,"  turning  to  Custis,  "because  he 
wasn't  at  the  house  when  I  returned.  Phyllis  Dema- 
rest, why  didn't  you  tell  your  Uncle  Pierre  what  that 
boy  did?" 

"Oh,  mother !  mother !"  cried  the  girl,  blushing 
painfully.  "There  is  nothing  to  tell.  Custis  didn't  do 
anything." 

139 


I40         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"He  didn't,  eh  ?  He  didn't  ?  No  doubt  you  would 
like  to  see  him  again  in  that  plight?  You  young 
wanton!" 

"Wliat  in  the  devil  is  all  this  about?"  stormed 
Dr.  Custis. 

"I'll  tell  you,"  raved  his  sister. 

But  before  she  started  to  do  so,  she  attempted  to 
seize  Phyllis,  who  had  thrown  herself,  sobbing,  on  her 
uncle's  breast. 

"Barbara!"  he  thundered.  "For  God's  sake,  try 
to  be  decent  once  in  your  life.  Touch  this  child  if 
you  dare,  and  you  will  be  responsible  for  the  con- 
sequences." 

"She's  my  child !"  she  cried ;  but  she  quailed, 
nevertheless,  before  his  gaze. 

"If  she  were  a  thousand  times  your  child,  I 
would  shield  her  from  your  terrorism.  You  shall  not 
ill  use  her  in  this  house." 

"Uncle  Pierre,  I  regret  I  am  the  cause  of  all  this 
trouble,"  said  Custis.  "I  will  tell  you  what  happened 
if  you  care  to  hear  my  version  of  the  affair." 

"It's  not  necessary,  son,  to  tell  me  anything.  I 
know  it  amounts  to  nothing.  Besides,  Phyllis  has 
exonerated  you." 

"But  I  prefer  to  tell  you,  so  you  can  judge  for 
yourself  whether  I  did  anything  wrong  or  not." 

"And  I  will  tell  you,  too,  if  you  care  to  hear  my 
version,"  screamed  the  infuriated  woman. 

"Mrs.  Demarest,  I  believe  that  Mr.  Christian  has 
the  floor,"  said  the  Doctor,  his  sense  of  the  ludicrous 
suddenly  supplanting  his  anger,  "Proceed,  Mr. 
Christian." 

"I  was  bathing  in  the  creek  this  morning,"  began 
the  boy. 

"Where  you  have  always  been  in  the  habit  of 
swimming,  and  where  I  gave  you  your  first  lessons?" 

"Yes,  Uncle  Pierre ;  the  same  spot." 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         141 

"The  most  secluded,  out-of-the-way  nook  in  the 
creek,  I  beheve?" 

The  boy  nodded  affirmatively. 

"Well,  I  was  bathing  there  this  morning,  I  had 
just  sprung  out  of  the  water  when  I  saw  Mrs.  Dema- 
rest  and  Phyllis," 

"And  he  didn't  have  a  piece  of  clothing  on !  Im- 
agine it  1"  cried  Mrs.  Demarest. 

"Boys  are  not  usually  hampered  with  clothing 
when  they  go  swimming  in  a  quiet  country  stream," 
said  Dr.  Custis,    "Go  on,  son," 

But  Mrs.  Demarest  spoke  instead  of  Custis : 

"Yes,  he  was  stark  naked — naked  as  he  came  into 
the  world." 

"A  superbly  knit  youngster,  isn't  he  ?" 

"You  don't  suppose  I  looked  at  him  ?" 

"How  in  the  devil  did  you  know  he  was  nude 
then?" 

"I  turned  my  face  away  at  once," 

"I  wouldn't  swear  you  did.  It  is  not  an  article  of 
my  creed  to  trust  a  prude.  Prudery  to  me  is  a  de- 
spicable form  of  hypocrisy.  It  is  not  modesty.  It  is 
anything  but  purity,  for  purity  has  its  roots  in  a  white 
mind.  Purity  thinks  no  evil.  Prudery  feeds  upon  it. 
Back  of  its  shrieks  and  shrugs  I  can  always  locate  a 
mind  fermenting  with  filth.  And  what  did  you  do, 
son,"  turning  to  Custis,  in  his  softest  voice,  "at  this 
unexpected  feminine  invasion  of  your  swimming  re- 
treat? Did  you  hasten  to  festoon  yourself  with  fig 
leaves,  like  your  first  forebears  after  eating  of  the  pro- 
hibited pippin?" 

"Why,  as  soon  as  the  brazen  brat  saw  us  he  ran 
like  mad  and  hid  himself  among  some  willows,"  said 
Mrs.  Demarest, 

"I  thought  he  did  something  like  that !  How  pro- 
voking, how  exasperating  of  the  boy  to  hide  himself 
when  you  wanted  a  better  view  of  him !" 


142         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

The  Doctor  sank  back  in  his  chair,  and  laugh  after 
laugh  rolled  from  his  lips. 

"That's  exactly  what  I  did,  Uncle  Pierre,"  said 
Custis,  solemnly.    "What  else  could  I  have  done?" 

"Nothing,  son,  save  to  have  stood  and  let  her  look 
at  you." 

"You  are  a  filthy-minded  wretch,  sir,  to  talk  as  you 
talk,  to  glorify  the  nude  as  you  do,"  screamed  Mrs. 
Demarest. 

"The  filth  is  on  your  mind,  my  sister.  It  is  you 
who  have  raised  all  this  tempest  about  the  nude.  Are 
you  aware,  Barbara,  of  the  ridiculous  spectacle  you 
have  made  of  yourself?  You  come  upon  an  innocent 
boy  swimming  in  a  spot  seldom,  if  ever,  frequented 
by  women " 

"Innocent  boy !"  she  sneered. 

"Ignorant  he  is  not,  if  you  mean  that,  but  inno- 
cent he  certainly  is.  Seeing  you  and  Phyllis,  he  seeks 
to  hide  himself,  like  the  modest  lad  he  is.  The  inci- 
dent is  so  trifling  it  is  soon  forgotten  alike  by  him 
and  the  other  innocent  youngster — ^the  girl  whose 
misfortune  it  is  to  be  your  daughter.  And  now, 
hours  afterward,  you  come  dragging  the  thing  forth. 
You  call  the  boy  a  brazen  brat,  the  girl  a  young  wan- 
ton, and  for  no  other  reason  than  that  they  are  white- 
minded,  that  they  can't  scent  obscenity  in  everything 
as  you  can.    Come,  children,  let  us  go  for  a  walk." 

He  rose  deliberately  and  left  the  porch,  the  chil- 
dren all  going  with  him. 

Cindie,  who  had   been   early  on  the  scene,   fol- 
lowed, chuckling  amusedly.     Ilalf  way  the  walk  she 
pulled  Custis  aside  and  said  in  a  semi-whisper: 
f  "When    dat    vixen    comes    'cross    mammy's    boy 

swimmin'  in  de  creek  agin,  you  jes'  stan'  whar  you  is, 
darling,  jes'  like  dat  start-naked  statue  man  in  dc 
liberry  and  see  what  she  gwinc  to  say  to  dat.  She 
find  fau't  wid  yo'  runnin'  and  hidin'  yo'scf.  Now 
stand  whar  you  is  and  see  if  dat'll  suit  her.    1  li !  Who 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         143 

dat  hollin'  murder?  It  sound  like  it  come  fum  down 
'Relius's?" 

"There's  where  it  comes  from,"  said  the  boy,  with 
pahng  Hps. 

He  hurried  to  the  side  of  Dr.  Custis,  who,  startled, 
as  were  the  others,  by  the  agonizing  shrieks  that  cut 
the  serenity  of  the  summer  evening,  stood  for  the  mo- 
ment as  if  stunned. 

"What  can  have  happened,  Uncle  Pierre?" 
queried  Custis. 

"God  only  knows.    Come,  let  us  see." 

And  they  started  off  on  flying  feet,  followed  by 
old  Cindie,  Phyllis  and  Carroll. 

"There  were  two  voices  calling — a  man's  and  a 
woman's,"  said  Dr.  Custis.  "But  the  man's  voice  has 
died  down,  and  only  the  woman's  is  heard." 

And  they  ran  on,  coming  shortly  to  Aurelius's 
home,  down  by  the  big  gate.  And  there  a  terrible 
tragedy  confronted  them.  Clad  only  in  his  nether 
garments,  Rutherford  Demarest  lay  dead  in  a  bed  of 
marigolds  and  four-o'-clocks,  where  he  had  fallen  with 
his  death  wound.  Above  his  body,  maddened  by  the 
profanation  of  his  home,  stood  Aurelius  Perkins,  hold- 
ing a  razor,  the  weapon  with  which  he  had  stilled  the 
heart  of  the  boy  libertine.  Beside  the  well,  cowering 
in  abject  terror,  stood  the  faithless  wife,  meagrely 
garmented,  her  arm  impotently  lifted  before  her  face 
as  if  to  avert  death  from  herself.  Within  the  house 
wailed  the  year-old  innocent  whose  mother's  wanton- 
ness had  made  of  his  father  a  murderer  and  brought 
upon  himself  a  weight  of  woe  heavier  than  orphan- 
hood. 

"My  God!  What  have  you  done,  'Relius?"  cried 
Dr.  Custis,  as  he  seized  the  razor  from  the  mulatto's 
hand  and  flung  it  as  far  as  he  could. 

"Done  what  you  or  any  udder  white  man  would 
a  done,"  was  the  murderer's  sullen  response. 

******  jH 


144         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

Those  were  solemn  hours  that  followed  the  trag- 
edy at  Holly  Hill.  Aiirelius  was  arrested  that  night 
and  conveyed  to  the  county  jail.  Early  the  next 
morning  Emeline  returned  to  her  mother,  in  Fluvanna 
County,  while  the  little  one,  thus  bereft  of  his  parents 
in  a  manner  more  cruel  than  death,  fell  to  the  care  of 
his  great-grandmother,  faithful  old  Cindie. 

By  noon  the  news  of  the  murder  had  penetrated 
the  remotest  parts  of  the  county,  and  from  every  di- 
rection people  came  and  looked  on  the  dead  boy  and 
went  away  with  sorrowful  faces. 

On  the  afternoon  train  from  Richmond  the  fu- 
neral director  arrived  with  the  casket,  and  that  night, 
long  after  the  dead  youth  had  been  laid  in  it,  and 
all  in  the  house  were  asleep  except  his  uncle,  "Doc," 
as  he  had  always  called  him,  went  to  him  and  stroked 
his  brow  again  and  again,  the  physician  was  so  grieved 
that  his  nephew  should  have  been  mowed  down  in  his 
youth  and  his  stain. 

"Poor  little  fellow !"  murmured  Dr.  Custis,  loving 
the  adulterer  and  despising  his  adultery.  "You  are  no 
exceptional  sinner,  after  all.  You  were  caught  and 
slain.  Retribution  was  swift  and  violent  in  her  treat- 
ment of  you.  She  seemed  to  have  singled  you  out 
as  an  especial  target — as  an  example,  some  would  say. 
That's  all ;  that's  all.  You  are  no  worse  than  most  of 
your  fellows.  They  are  not  caught;  they  are  not 
killed.  That's  the  only  difference.  Tens  of  thousands 
all  over  the  land  are  to-night  committing  the  sin  for 
which  you  had  to  pay  the  penalty  of  your  life.  Ah, 
this  perversion  of  the  sexual  instinct!  And  the  sulfer- 
ing,  the  tragedy  it  brings  upon  the  race !" 

A  sudden  sweep  of  wind,  presaging  a  storm,  flung 
the  blinds  apart  and  sobbed  through  the  room,  filling 
it  with  the  heavy  odor  of  magnolia — a  perfume  sug-' 
gestive  to  the  physician  of  death.  His  mother  had  died 
in  magnolia  time.  His  father  had  fallen  asleep  when 
they  were  in  blossom.    And  now  his  nephew  lay  dead 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         145 

as  they  were  putting   forth   their   urns   of  perfumed 
snow. 

He  walked  to  the  window  and  looked  up  at  the 
sky,  the  theatre  of  racing  clouds,  amid  which  the  moon 
was  playing  hide  and  seek.  Up  from  the  willows 
that  fringed  the  creek  floated  the  cry  of  a  whippoorwill, 
and  among  the  yews  and  hemlocks  in  the  graveyard 
the  voice  of  an  owl  accentuated  the  weirdness  of  the 
hour. 

He  drew  the  blinds  together  and  went  back  to  the 
dead,  the  boy  looked  so  lonely,  somehow,  in  his  deep, 
narrow  bed. 

"It  is  not  strange  you  did  the  things  you  ought  not 
to  have  done,"  he  said,  laying  his  hand  on  Rutherford's 
brow,  "when  you  were  an  alien  to  righteousness,  when 
there  was  no  influence  to  steer  you  through  the  perils 
of  youth.  It  was  all  altar  trappings  and  broadening 
of  phylacteries  to  the  exclusion  of  the  things  that  make 
for  Christlikeness." 

He  went  to  the  hearth,  and,  picking  up  a  trio  of 
fledgling  swallows  fluttering  and  screaming  between 
the  andirons,  placed  the  frightened  birds  back  into  the 
nest  out  of  which  they  had  fallen  in  their  descent  of 
the  chimney. 

"I  wish  we  had  seen  more  of  each  other,"  he 
said,  going  back  to  the  dead.  "I  might  have  helped 
you  to  whiter  thinking,  cleaner  living,  and  then  this 
sad  thing  would  never  have  happened.  Ah,  well !  It 
will  all  come  right  one  day.  Some  time,  in  the  far  fu- 
ture, whether  in  this  world  through  reincarnation  or  in 
other  worlds — I  don't  know — you  must  finally  redeem 
yourself  and  pass  out  of  your  stain  into  the  white- 
ness of  God's  sons." 

******* 

The  case  of  the  Commonwealth  versus  Aurelius 
Perkins  came  up  before  the  August  term  of  the  County 
Court;  a  jury  was  quickly  impaneled,  and  in  spite  of 
all  the  evidence,  showing  conclusively  that  the  accused 


146         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

had  done  only  what  hundreds  of  white  men  had  done 
and  been  justified  by  law  and  pubHc  opinion  for  doing; 
in  spite  of  the  exemplary  character  which  the  prisoner 
had  always  borne ;  in  spite  of  the  murdered  youth's 
having  been  the  son  of  a  despised  carpet-bagger  and 
Republican ;  in  spite  of  the  beloved  physician's  influ- 
ence; in  spite  of  everything — the  jury  returned  a  ver- 
dict of  murder  in  the  first  degree,  and  in  the  fossilized 
verbiage  of  the  law  the  prisoner  was  sentenced  to  be 
hanged  by  the  neck  until  he  was  dead.  It  was  surely 
an  astounding  verdict,  and  Dr.  Custis,  though  slow  to 
misjudge  his  fellow-men,  could  not  help  believing  that 
political  hate  had  had  most,  if  not  all,  to  do  with  the 
atrocious  miscarriage  of  justice. 

"Justice  shall  be  done  the  boy  if  he  did  slay  my 
nephew,"  he  declared.  "I'll  appeal  to  the  Supreme 
Court  if  I  have  to  mortgage  Holly  Hill.  A  man  sen- 
tenced to  death  for  slaying  the  destroyer  of  his  home 
and  his  happiness  !     Preposterous!    Outrageous!" 

His  political  enemies  industriously  gave  his  words 
wide  circulation,  to  show  that  he  cared  more  for  the 
"nigger"  murderer  of  his  nephew  than  he  had  cared 
for  the  poor  boy  so  cruelly  murdered. 

"But  maybe,  after  all,  the  damned  yaller  coon  is 
closer  to  him  than  we've  thought,"  suggested  a  foul- 
minded  Republican  to  a  group  of  Republicans  and 
Democrats.  And  one  of  the  crowd — a  Democrat — 
slapped  the  reptile  on  the  back,  and  the  others  winked 
or  smiled  their  approval. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

A  week  later  the  Populists  held  a  rally  on  the 
courthouse  green. 

Dr.  Custis  thought  it  the  part  of  dignity  to  ignore 
the  whole  brood  of  slanders  against  him ;  but,  after 
a  conference  with  his  political  confederates,  he  agreed 
to  take  up  the  charges  and  dispose  of  them  briefly 
before  entering  upon  a  discussion  of  the  issues  of  the 
campaign. 

So,  facing  his  audience,  composed  of  men  of  all 
parties,  he  began,  after  saluting  them  as  "friends  and 
fellow-citizens" : 

"And  they  say  I  am  a  chronic  sorehead,  a  dis- 
gruntled ofifice-seeker ;  that  I  left  the  Democratic  party 
because  Grover  overlooked  me  in  the  distribution  of 
political  pie.  My  friends,  you  know  that's  an  atrocious 
lie.  I  never  in  all  my  life  sought  an  office  of  any  kind, 
and  you  who  know  me — and  most  of  you  do — know 
I  am  telling  the  truth.  But  just  here  it  might  be 
interesting  if  my  old  friend,  Colonel  Page,  tlie  es- 
teemed chairman  of  the  County  Democracy,  would 
tell  us  the  name  of  the  gentleman  who  called  on  one 
Pierre  Custis  two  years  ago,  and  two  years  before  that, 
and  each  time  urged  the  said  Pierre  Custis  to  allow 
his  name  to  go  before  the  County  Democratic  Conven- 
tion as  a  candidate  for  the  General  Assembly,  assuring 
him  of  a  unanimous  nomination.  The  Colonel  will 
not  tell  us.    Ah,  well!     He  is  a  modest  man,  and  is 

'47 


148         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

naturally  embarrassed  by  the  sight  of  so  many  people. 
So  we'll  generously  excuse  him," 

(Prolonged  laughter  and  cheering.) 

"My  Democratic  friends  say  I  am  a  Republican 
masquerading  as  a  Populist ;  that  with  my  fellow- 
Populists  I  am  secretly  working  to  hand  Virginia  over 
to  Mahone  and  the  Republican  party.  ]\Iy  friends — • 
many  of  you  my  friends  from  childhood  up — do  you, 
can  you  believe  I  could  have  sunk  so  low  as  to  be 
associated  in  any  way  with  William  Mahone  or  the  Re- 
publican party?" 

"No !  No !  No !"  was  the  almost  unanimous  re- 
sponse, many  Democrats  joining  in. 

'T  thank  you,  friends ;  I  thank  you  very  much," 
returned  the  speaker,  visibly  moved. 

"My  religion,  or,  rather,  my  want  of  it,"  he  went 
on,  after  a  minute  or  so,  "is  as  offensive,  it  seems,  to 
many  good  people  as  are  my  political  opinions.  They 
say  I  don't  believe  in  God,  because  I  hold  to  a  sweeter, 
larger  conception  of  God  than  the  old  creeds  have 
painted  Plim.  They  say,  too,  I  don't  believe  in  heaven 
and  hell,  because  I  reject  the  puerile,  sensuous  pictures 
of  them  which  have  come  to  us  from  barbaric  ages. 
They  say  also — and  they  lay  the  greatest  stress  on 
this — that  I  don't  believe  in  Jesus  Christ ;  that  I 
repudiate  Christianity,  that  I  am  an  atheist.  And  why  ? 
Simply  because  I  am  not  coward  and  sneak  enough  to 
make  Jesus  Christ  a  packhorse  for  all  my  selfishness. 
There  is  no  man  on  the  globe  who  loves  the  name  or 
the  personality  of  Jesus  more  than  I.  who  believes  more 
thoroughly  in  all  that  He  taught.  There  is  a  lot  of  cant 
preached  and  sung  and  written  about  believing  in 
Jesus ;  but  the  only  way  to  believe  in  Him  is  to  do 
His  will,  or  the  will  of  Him  that  sent  Him,  as  He 
preferred  to  put  the  matter ;  to  love  your  fellows  along 
with  your  God ;  to  treat  them  precisely  as  you  would 
have  them  treat  you.  In  no  other  way  can  you  show 
your  love  for  God  than  by  loving  your  brothers.     To 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         149 

do  the  clean  thing,  the  just  thing,  the  loving  thing, 
and  to  be  doing  them  all  the  time^-this  is  believing  in 
Jesus!  And  if  you  are  not  doing  it,  you  are  a  hypo- 
crite and  a  fraud.  I  mean  it,  every  word.  My  friends, 
if  men  had  really  believed  in  Jesus  Christ,  believed 
what  He  said  and  lived  up  to  that  belief,  there  would 
be  nobody  going  around  consigning  this  man  or  that 
to  endless  flames  because  he  didn't  believe  in  heaven 
and  hell ;  for  the  fires  of  hell  would  centuries  ago  have 
died  down  to  ashes  and  heaven  would  be  all  around 
us,  an  established  fact  as  the  sunlight." 

'How  about  what  you  told  Dr.  Jones?"  shouted  a 
fellow. 

"Yes,"  cried  another.  "You  told  him  you  were  a 
Unitarian." 

"And  what's  that  but  an  infidel?"  demanded  the 
first  inquisitor. 

"Yes,  it  appears  that  my  esteemed  brother-phy- 
sician, in  his  partisan  zeal,  has  been  quite  actively  em- 
ployed for  a  fortnight  in  circulating  a  remark  I  made 
to  him  a  year  or  so  ago.  I  said,  in  discussing  religion 
with  him,  that  I  had  thought  myself  out  of  the  faith 
of  my  fathers,  that  I  was  a  Unitarian  if  anything. 
And  what  of  it  if  I  am  a  Unitarian?  Whose  affair  is 
it  but  mine  ?  Haven't  I  the  right  to  my  belief  under  the 
American  Constitution  ?  It  seems  to  me  that  the  ques- 
tion of  freedom  of  conscience  in  matters  theological 
was  settled  in  this  country  more  than  a  hundred  years 
ago.  My  friends,  you  are  all  familiar  with  the  name 
of  Thomas  Jefferson,  the  greatest  man  that  Virginia 
ever  produced  ?" 

"Jefferson  is  all  right,  he  is!"  shouted  some  one. 

Immediately  followed  three  cheers  for  the  Sage  of 
Monticello. 

"Yes,"  said  Dr.  Custis.  "Jefferson  zvas  all  right — 
a  century  ago.  He  was  the  dangerous  man,  the  radical, 
the  revolutionist  of  his  day.    For  that  reason  his  name 


150    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

is  dear  to  me.  Now,  if  I  mistake  not,  the  Democrats 
claim  this  great  man  as  the  founder  of  their  party  ?" 

"That's  what  we  do !"  cried  a  proud  disciple. 

"And  you  think  Jefferson  was  the  embodiment  of 
all  political  wisdom  ?" 

"That's  what  he  was !" 

"You  believe  he  was  inspired  to  speak  for  all  time 
to  come?  That  coming  statesmen  and  economists  can 
add  nothing  to  what  he  has  said  ?" 

"That's  the  size  of  it  1" 

And  the  name  of  Jefferson  was  again  cheered. 

"Well,  my  friends,  where  did  this  wise  man,  whom 
you  worship  as  a  political  deity,  stand  theologically? 
The  Baptists  cannot  claim  him,  though  he  was  in 
hearty  accord  with  one  glorious  doctrine  for  which 
they  have  always  stood — the  separation  of  Church  and 
State.  He  was  not  a  Wesleyan.  He  was  no  Church- 
man, and  Calvinism  he  loathed.  Shall  I  break  the 
truth  to  you  ?  Well,  Tom  was  in  religion  exactly  what 
you  would  damn  me  for  being — a  Unitarian.  You 
didn't  know  that,  eh?  And  he  was  as  proud  of  his 
Unitarianism  as  he  was  of  his  Democracy.  So  en- 
thusiastic a  Unitarian  v/as  he  that  he  went  to  the 
fanatical  length  of  wishing  that  every  young  man  in 
America  might  die  a  Unitarian.  Now,  friends,  if  a 
hundred  years  ago,  when  men  were  supposed  to  be 
much  more  narrow  and  intolerant  in  matters  of  the- 
ology than  they  are  to-day,  this  man  Thomas  Jeffer- 
son, with  his  Unitarian  views,  could  be  elected  Presi- 
dent of  the  United  States,  is  it  possible  that  I  could 
not  be  elected  to  the  Virginia  Senate  in  this  the  closing 
decade  of  the  nineteenth  century  because  of  my  Uni- 
tarianism ?" 

"Give  'em  hell.  Doc !"  shouted  a  well-known 
farmer,  who  had  been  astride  the  fence,  but  had  just 
tumbled  over  into  the  Populist  yard. 

"Yes,  soak  it  into  'em,  old  man !"  yelled  a  young 
fellow,  who  was  looking  forward  to  casting  his  virgin 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         151 

vote  for  Cocke  and  Custis  as  the  event  of  his  Hfe.    "No 
flies  on  you — not  an  insect  visible !" 

"Say,  how — 'bout — your — son — 'ReHus?"  jerked 
out  a  Democratic  hoodlum,  afflicted  with  a  trouble- 
some case  of  hiccoughs. 

-"My  son  'Relius?"  repeated  the  Doctor,  in  mock 
wonderment,  which  caused  much  merriment.  "Oh,"  he 
added,  smiling,  "I  believe  it  has  been  discovered  within 
the  past  week  that  I  am  responsible  for  this  unfor- 
tunate fellow's  existence ;  in  other  words,  I  am  'Relius's 
pa.  Mr.  Hardie,  you  are  an  old  landmark.  Will  you 
kindly  tell  me,  if  you  can,  the  date  of  my  arrival  on 
this  globe  of  greed  ?" 

"The  year  before  the  big  snow  of  1857,"  promptly 
replied  the  merchant,  who,  by  the  way,  had  become 
an  ardent  Populist. 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Hardie.  Now,  Captain  Waller, 
you  have  the  distinction  of  possessing  the  acutest 
memory  of  any  man  in  the  county,  of  being  an  au- 
thority on  all  matters  genealogical.  Will  you  tell  me 
the  year,  the  month,  the  day  of  my  advent  on  this 
sphere  of  sin  ?" 

"You  were  born  November  2  (All  Souls'  Day), 
1856." 

"Thank  you,  Captain.  Now,  Major  Warwick, 
you  are  a  Democrat,  I  know,  but  I  believe  you  would 
tell  the  truth  as  soon  as  any  Populist  would.  When 
was  it  that  I,  your  degenerate  kinsman,  first  began  to 
kick  against  things  terrestrial?" 

"In  November,  1856." 

"Thank  you,  Alajor.  Now,  friends,  these  three 
gentlemen — gentlemen  whose  veracity  no  man  would 
dare  question  unless  he  wanted  to  die — are  all  agreed 
that  my  voice  was  not  heard  in  the  land  earlier  than 
the  year  1856.  And  the  Family  Bible  at  Holly  Hill 
tells  the  same  story.  Now,  let  us  figure  the  thing  out: 
Pierre  Custis,  born  November  2,  1856.    Aurelius  Per- 


152         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

kins,  born  December  20,  1865.  Subtract  1856  from 
1865  and  what  is  the  remainder?" 

"Nine!   Nine!   Nine !"  came  a  chorus  of  voices. 

"That's  right,  boys  !  Go  up  head,  all  of  you !  You 
are  born  mathematicians.  So  I  was  a  kid  of  nine,  run- 
ning around  in  knee  trousers  when  my  son  Aurelius 
was  born?  Gentlemen,  defeat  me  if  you  will,  vote 
against  me,  every  one  of  you — but  don't,  I  implore  you, 
let  this  thing  get  out  of  the  county.  If  you  do,  every 
other  woman  in  the  United  States  will  be  writing  for 
my  photograph  or  autograph.  Newspapers  will  be 
sending  reporters  to  Holly  Hill  to  write  me  up  and 
to  learn  how  it  happened.  Circuses  and  freak  mu- 
seums will  be  tumbling  over  each  other  in  their  frantic 
efforts  to  get  me  to  exhibit  myself  as  the  marvel  of 
the  age — the  boy  who  was  able  to  reproduce  his  species 
before  he  was  nine  years  of  age." 

The  speaker  had  brought  his  audience — Populists, 
Democrats,  and  even  Republicans — to  the  best  humor 
possible.  With  three  or  four  exceptions,  every  man's 
mouth  was  stretched  in  laughter,  and  it  was  five  min- 
utes at  least  that  the  physician  stood  waiting  for  the 
merriment  to  subside. 

"Well,  how  'bout  the  kid  Custis  Christian?"  said 
one  of  the  exceptions  referred  to,  as  the  physician  at 
length  started  to  speak  again.  "You  are  old  enough 
to  be  his  father,  ain't  you  ?" 

"Yes,  and  so  are  millions  of  other  men,  for  that 
matter,"  retorted  the  Doctor. 

The  crowd  at  once  manifested  its  disaj^proval  of 
the  questioner  and  his  question  by  a  storm  of  hisses. 

"Shame!"  "Shame!"  "Put  him  out!"  "Put  him 
out!"  came  from  throat  after  throat,  Democratic  as 
well  as  Populistic. 

"My  friends,"  said  Dr.  Custis,  "you  and  a  few  of 
your  ilk  can  build  no  scandal  out  of  my  love  for  that 
boy.  If,  in  the  beginning,  the  nasty  thought  you  are 
nursing  lacked  the  vitality  to  live  beyond  the  lips  of 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         153 

two  or  three  petticoated  scandal-sowers,  political 
venom  cannot  breathe  life  into  it  at  this  late  day.  The 
decent  sentiment  of  the  community,  irrespective  of 
party  affiliations,  forbids  it." 

"That's  right,  Doctor!"  "You  are  the  stuff!" 
"We'll  stand  by  you!"  "There  are  no  flies  on  Pierre 
Custis !"  "Hurrah  for  Dr.  Custis!"  were  some  of  the 
hearty,  if  inelegant,  expressions  of  confidence  and 
affection  that  came  from  the  men  around  him. 

"Now,  my  friends,  if  you  have  no  more  sons 
charged  against  me,  I  will  proceed  to  discuss  the  issues 
of  the  campaign  which  brought  us  out  to-day,"  said 
the  speaker,  eager  to  get  down  to  serious  work. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

It  was  Christmas  Eve  at  last — the  day  to  which 
she  had  been  looking  forward  so  eagerly  ever  since 
she  left  Richmond  in  May — and  in  all  Muscogee 
County,  Georgia,  no  woman  was  so  happy  as  was 
Dorothy  Nelson.  Dr.  Custis,  on  parting  with  her  and 
Paul,  had  promised  that  he  and  Custis  would  visit 
them  at  Yuletide,  and  they  were  coming  at  last,  they 
would  soon  be  with  her — this  best-beloved  friend  of 
hers  and  the  boy  whom  she  had  given  him  thirteen 
years  ago  to-night. 

Paul  had  gone  to  Columbus  to  meet  them.  She 
had  wanted  to  go  with  him,  but  she  was  so  frail  of  late, 
she  succumbed  so  quickly  to  exhaustion,  that  Paul  had 
vetoed  her  accompanying  him,  lest  the  fatigue  of  the 
journey  might  put  her  in  bed  for  the  holidays. 

She  unfolded  for  at  least  the  twentieth  time  a 
letter  she  had  received  the  day  before  from  Custis, 
and,  kissing  it,  as  she  had  kissed  it  every  time  she 
had  read  it,  went  through  its  contents  again : 

My  Dearest  Mrs.  Nelson — I  wrote  you  a  long 
letter  last  week,  but  it  gave  you  nothing  definite  as 
to  our  trip.  So  I  write  now  to  say  that  Uncle  Pierre 
and  I  shall  certainly  be  with  you  and  Mr.  Nelson 
Christmas.  We  shall  go  to  Richmond  to-morrow,  and 
there  take  a  sleeper  over  the  Southern  Railway  for 
Columbus. 

Have  you  wired  Santa  Claus  of  the  additional 
stocking  to  be  filled? 

154 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         155 

Uncle  Pierre  and  I  have  just  received  a  glorious 
Christmas  gift.  The  Supreme  Court  of  Virginia  has 
granted  our  poor  'Relius  a  new  trial. 

Kiss  my  little  Georgia  sweetheart  for  me.  And 
the  little  seraph  will  be  a  year  old  Christmas — and  I 
shall  be  fifteen  ?  We  ought  to  be  very  good  children — 
Virginia  and  I — to  have  been  born  on  the  anniversary 
of  the  Master's  birth.    Don't  you  think  so  ? 

Lots  of  love  to  Mr.  Nelson. 

Lovingly  your  boy, 

CUSTIS. 

Then,  in  Dr.  Custis's  handwriting,  followed : 

P.  S. — If  Santa  Claus  could  see  the  stocking  re- 
ferred to  and  the  astounding  combination  of  flesh  and 
muscle  that  gives  it  shape,  I  am  sure  he  would  think 
it  downright  imposition  to  ask  him  to  fill  it. 

Uncle  Pierre. 

"You  droll  darling!"  exclaimed  Dorothy.  "No 
wonder  my  child  is  the  divine  boy  he  is,  brought  up 
as  he  has  been  by  a  heavenly  old  thing  like  you.  Aunt 
Easter,  is  Virginia  still  asleep?"  as  that  licorice- 
skinned  worthy,  scarletly  turbaned,  entered  the  room. 

"Yes,  marm ;  she  sleep.  I  'clar  Miss  Do'thy,  you 
jes'  looks  sweet  'nough  to  eat.  Is  dat  de  blue  frock 
whar  you  buyed  de  las'  time  you  went  to  town  ?" 

"Yes,  and  I  got  this  white  waist  at  the  same  time. 
Isn't  it  pretty  ?  My  little  sweetheart  dotes  on  blue,  and 
white  he  adores.  And  I  am  wearing  these  violets,  too, 
because  of  his  coming.  Violets  are  his  delight,  and  so, 
too,  are  roses.  I  have  just  put  a  bunch  of  each  in  his 
room.  Well,  Lick,  what  is  it?"  as  a  little  pickaninny, 
with  legs  which  no  course  of  physical  culture  could 
ever  have  kneaded  into  things  of  beauty,  rushed  into 
the  room,  dragging  a  stalk  of  sugar  cane  which  he 
had  been  greedily  sucking  prior  to  his  agitation. 

"Dey  comin'.  Miss  Do'thy !  Dey  comin'  1"  he 
cried,  with  enlarged  eyes. 

"What?  Already?" 


156    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

And  she  darted  toward  tlie  front  porch.  A  mo- 
ment later  the  carriage  rolled  in  sight,  and  Dorothy 
gave  a  cry  of  joy  as  the  fresh,  glad  laugh  of  her  boy 
came  to  her  ears. 

"Well,  darling,"  said  Paul,  as  he  stepped  out  of 
the  carriage.  "They  have  condescended  to  visit  us 
lowly  Georgians  at  last,  have  these  tw^o  F.  F.  V.'s." 

Dr.  Custis  followed  Nelson  to  the  ground,  and 
after  him  sprang  Custis,  laden  with  mistletoe  and  pal- 
metto he  had  gathered  on  the  way. 

"You  angel!"  cried  Dorothy,  as  the  Doctor 
greeted  her,  kissing  her  brow. 

"What  kind  of  angel,  little  girl?"  he  asked.  "Ac- 
cording to  Milton,  there  are  angels  that  have  fallen." 

"But  you  are  not  of  that  kind." 

"Thank  you." 

And  then  he  stepped  aside  for  Custis. 

Mother  and  son  looked  into  each  other's  eyes, 
and  then,  without  a  word,  glided  into  each  other's 
arms.  And  the  men,  as  on  a  like  occasion,  in  Rich- 
mond, walked  ahead  with  overflowing  eyes,  under- 
standing it  all. 

Virginia  had  awakened  and  was  in  as  amial^le 
humor  as  one  could  have  desired.  Custis  took  her  up 
in  his  arms  after  the  Doctor  had  had  that  honor,  and 
presently,  unobserved,  he  slipped  on  her  finger  a  ring 
he  had  bought  for  her  in  Richmond.  But,  with  the 
instinct  of  her  sex,  she  was  averse  to  allowing  any 
article  of  adornment  to  go  unobserved,  and,  cooing 
and  laughing  as  if  it  were  all  plain  to  her,  she  at  once 
held  up  her  little  hand  before  her  mother,  then  be- 
fore her  father,  and  so  on  until  everybody  in  the 
room,  down  to  Lick,  with  his  comically  crooked  legs, 
had  seen  and  admired  the  love  token  from  her  brother. 

"Now,  Doctor,  come  with  me  and  Fll  show  you  to 
your  room,"  said  Nelson,  at  length,  picking  up  his 
guest's  valise.  "Custis,  son,"  laying  his  hand  on  the 
boy's  arm,  "Mrs.  Nelson  will  see  you  to  your  room." 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         157 

"Yes,  darling-.  Annt  Easter,  take  Virginia,  please." 

The  old  woman  took  the  baby  from  the  youth's 
arms,  but  not  without  wails  of  protest  from  the  wilful 
little  maiden.  The  boy  gave  her  several  kisses,  which 
reduced  her  yells  to  sobs,  and  then  picked  up  his 
valise  to  follow  his  mother. 

"Dorothy  has  fitted  up  a  room  for  your  especial 
use,  my  son,"  said  Nelson,  "I  have  christened  it 
'Our  Boy's  Room.'  It  is  next  to  ours,  opening  into  it. 
She  would  have  it  nowhere  else.  And  she  has  turned 
it  into  a  regular  flower  garden.  But,  Doctor,  you 
needn't  look  so  hurt.  She  hasn't  slighted  you.  That 
would  be  against  her  religion.  You  have  your  violets, 
roses,  etc.,  as  well  as  the  youngster.  I  am  the  one 
slighted — the  one  who  gets  left  when  the  bouquets  are 
going  around.    But  I  am  the  husband ;  that  explains  it." 

"But,  dear,"  returned  his  wife,  with  a  laugh  as 
sweet  as  a  girl's,  "you  are  like  the  poor  of  whom  the 
Master  spoke.    You  I  have  always  with  me," 

And  then  the  merry  little  party  started  upstairs. 
Nelson  and  Dr.  Custis  giving  the  right  of  precedence 
to  Mrs.  Nelson  and  Custis. 

The  room  into  which  she  ushered  the  boy  lacked 
nothing  that  refined  mother-love  could  suggest  so  far 
as  the  means  back  of  it  justified, 

"This  room  we  have  dedicated  to  you,  love,"  she 
said.  "It  is  yours  so  long  as  we  have  a  home,  and  our 
home  is  yours — your  other  home — so  long  as  we  can 
keep  it  out  of  the  clutches  of  the  money-lender." 

The  boy  raised  his  face  from  the  violets  and  looked 
at  her  with  that  love  light  in  his  blue  eyes,  that  love 
smile  about  his  red  lips,  which  always  foretold  an 
embrace  from  the  youngster  for  the  one  he  loved. 
And  the  next  second  his  arm  was  about  his  mother's 
neck.  ^ 

"I  do  love  you  so,  Mrs.  Nelson — love  you  just — 
just  as  I  imagine  a  boy  loves  his  mother'  You  don't 
mind  my  saying  this,  do  you  ?    I  know  you  are  not  old 


158    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

enough  to  be  the  mother  of  a  big,  overgrown  kid  like 
I  am.  But  still  you  don't  care  if  I  love  you  in  that 
way?    It's  all  right,  isn't  it?" 

She  drew  his  face  down  to  hers,  struggling  the 
while  for  speech.    At  last,  succeeding,  she  said : 

*T  would  not  have  you  unsay  those  words  for  all 
the  world!" 

"Why  do  we  love  each  other  so,  I  wonder?"  he 
asked,  feeling  suddenly  very  strange  about  it. 

How  she  longed  to  cry  out  that  she  was  his 
mother,  to  abandon  herself  to  the  love  that  was  con- 
suming her !  But,  ah  !  that  sin  of  her  youth  which  had 
stained  his  birth.  She  could  never  tell  him  of  that. 
She  could  never  look  into  his  face  again  if  he  knew 
what  she  had  been. 

It  w^as  far  into  the  night.  Santa  Claus  had  come 
and  gone,  leaving  three  stockings  fat  unto  bursting  and 
a  cedar  tree  gay  with  his  gifts. 

All  in  the  house  were  asleep  save  Dorothy,  who 
sat  nursing  Virginia.  But  her  thoughts  were  not  of 
the  babe  at  her  breast.  They  were  of  the  youth  asleep 
in  the  adjoining  room — her  first  born,  who  had  come 
to  her  fifteen  years  ago  to-night  in  the  home  of  dear 
old  Otto  and  Gretchen  Heinlein.  \Micre  was  Frau 
Heinlein  this  Christmas  morning?  Living  or  dead,  she 
was  safe,  she  was  God's.  Souls  so  kind,  so  tender,  by 
the  law  of  attraction,  found  their  way  to  God.  They 
could  never  be  lost ;  it  was  impossible. 

Her  hunger  satisfied,  \'irginia  fell  asleep.  Dorothy 
sat  looking  at  her,  but  thinking  of  Custis.  At  last  she 
rose  and  tenderly  laid  the  little  one  into  her  crib. 
Then,  overpowered  by  a  longing  to  look  upon  her  boy 
as  he  slei)t,  to  be  as  near  to  him  as  possible,  she  opened 
the  door,  and,  entering  his  room,  glided  noiselessly 
to  where  he  lay.  He  stirred  at  her  apj)roach.  sighing 
in  his  sleep,  and  turned  over  on  his  back,  dropping 
from  his  fingers  a  white  rose,  half  open,  that  he  had 


"My  own  little  mother! 


You  don't  know  how  your  boy  loves  you. 
Page  161. 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         159 

carried  to  bed  with  him  and  fallen  asleep  jealously 
clutching-.  She  picked  up  the  flower  and  caressed  it 
with  her  lips.  Then  she  looked  on  the  beautiful  face 
of  the  boy,  etherialized  by  the  moon's  silver  in  which 
he  lay,  and  it  was  given  her  to  behold  in  the  rose- 
bud a  symbol  of  the  white  young  life  unfolding  so 
fragrantly  into  manhood. 

She  recalled,  as  she  looked  upon  him,  a  touching 
story  she  had  once  read  of  St.  Origen,  the  sweetest 
and  greatest  of  all  the  Christian  Fathers,  and  for  that 
reason  anathematized  by  the  Church,  Catholic  and 
Evangelical  alike.  It  was  to  the  effect  that  when 
Origen  was  a  youth  of  fifteen,  lovely  and  white  of  soul 
as  her  own  boy,  his  father  would  steal  to  him  as  he 
lay  asleep,  and,  baring  his  breast,  kiss  it  because 
therein  was  the  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  The  story 
appealed  peculiarly  to  her  at  this  moment,  and,  moved 
by  the  impulse  that  had  moved  Origen's  father,  she  un- 
covered the  lad's  breast  and  kissed  him  above  the 
heart;  then  her  lips  hungrily  sought  his,  and  in  the 
passion  of  her  mother-love,  so  long  repressed,  she 
kissed  him  again  and  again,  until,  half-awakened,  he 
sprang  up  in  bed. 

Instantly  she  fled  from  him,  concealing  herself  in 
the  shadow. 

"1  must  have  dreamed  it,"  he  mused,  aloud.  "Of 
course,  I  did.  And  yet  it  was  all  so  real.  I  dreamed 
that  my  mother  came  to  me  and  kissed  me  and  kissed 
me  as  if  she  couldn't  kiss  me  enough.  And  the  strange 
part  of  it  is  she  was  Mrs.  Nelson.  Yes,  it  seemed 
in  my  dream  as  if  they  were  one." 

"And  they  are  one !     They  are  one,  my  darling !" 

And  Dorothy  flung  herself  on  Custis's  breast  and 
ran  her  arms  up  around  his  neck  in  a  wild,  passion- 
ate clasp. 

Wonderingly,  reverently,  he  looked  upon  her, 
stroking  her  hair  the  while.  Then,  as  it  all  grew  clear 
to  him,  he  fell  to  kissing  her  with  a  passion  that  almost 


ir.o         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

equaled  her  own,  and  she  was  content  to  lie  passive 
in  his  arms,  murmuring  at  intervals :  "Mother's  boy ! 
Mother's  darling !" 

"And  you  are  my  mother,  really?"  he  said,  finding 
his  voice  at  last.  "I  know  now  why  I  have  always 
loved  you." 

"Yes,  yes.  Oh,  I  tried  to  keep  it  from  you,  but  I 
couldn't.  To-night — the  anniversary  of  your  birth- 
night — and  your  coming  to  see  me  have  proved  my 
undoing.  All  day,  all  night,  I  could  think  of  little 
else  but  the  night  you  came  to  me." 

"Tell  me  all  about  it,  mother,"  he  said,  uttering 
the  last  word  with  a  hushed  tenderness  that  thrilled 
every  fibre  of  her  soul. 

"How  can   I  ?     Oh,  my  darling !     'My   darling ! 

There  is  a  stain  on  your  mother — a  dark,  deep  stain !" 

"A  stain — a  dark,  deep  stain?"  he  repeated,  softly. 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  trembling.    "I  went — wrong — 

when — I  was  a  girl." 

And  she  stopped,  overwhelmed  by  the  humiliating 
confession. 

"Yes,  mother?"  he  said,  oh,  so  tenderly.  And 
then  he  fell  to  patting  her  cheek  while  she  pulled  her- 
self together  for  further  utterance. 

"I  went  wrong — for — love — of — your — father," 
she  said,  haltingly.  "And  you  are  here,  darling,  be- 
cause of  it." 

And,  palsied  with  shame,  unable  to  look  up,  she 
dropped  her  face  on  his  breast.  But  he  would  not 
have  it  so,  and  he  lovingly  lifted  it  and  kissed  the  poor 
eyes  that  could  not  look  into  his — kissed  them  until 
the  bruise  in  them  was  gone  and  they  were  forced  by 
the  warmth  of  his  love  to  meet  his. 

"It  is  all  right,  little  mother,"  and  she  felt  his 
tears  on  her  hand.  "What  if  there  zvas  a  stain  on  you 
years  and  years  ago?  Love  put  it  there,  after  all,  and 
love  has  long  since  wiped  it  away.  If  you  went  wrong, 
vou  have  come  rifrht  asfain.    And  who  it  is  that  doesn't 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         i6i 

go  wrong  sometimes — if  not  in  one  way,  in  another? 
Now,  tell  me  all  about  it.  Don't  tremble  so.  It  hurts 
me — hurts  down  to  the  quick  of  me.  My  own  little 
mother!  You  don't  know  how  your  boy  loves  you. 
Go  on  now  and  tell  me  all  you  have  endured  for  my 
sake,  and  in  return  I  will  try  my  best  from  this  night 
on  to  make  you  rejoice  that  you  brought  me  into 
the  world." 

"There  has  never  been  a  moment  since  you  were 
born  that  I  have  not  rejoiced  because  of  that,"  she 
returned,  ineffably  happy  because  of  the  assurances 
he  had  given  her  so  abundantly  of  his  love. 

And,  seeing  that  he  was  intent  upon  listening  to 
her  story,  she  told  him  all  save  the  name  of  his  father, 
and  he  lay  listening,  his  heart  torn  and  bleeding  be- 
cause of  all  she  had  suffered  for  him.  Several  times 
he  cried  out  for  indignation,  but  oftener  for  pain,  and 
during  the  whole  of  it  he  was  in  tears. 

"Who  is  this  man  that  wrought  so  much  sorrow, 
mother — this  devil  beside  whom  Uncle  Pierre  and  Mr. 
Nelson  stand  out  like  gods?"  he  asked  when  she 
was  done. 

"I  would  prefer  not  to  tell  you,  love ;  not  now,  at 
any  rate." 

"Do  you  fear  I  would  harm  him,  mother?  Never! 
I  have  been  taught  in  a  diviner  school  of  ethics  than 
that  which  demands  an  eye  for  an  eye  and  a  tooth  for 
a  tooth.  That  may  be  the  savage  way,  the  Mosaic 
way,  even  the  Christian  way,  but  it  is  not  the  Christ 
way.  A  wrong  can  never  be  wiped  out  by  blood.  A 
crime  for  a  crime  makes  two  crimes,  the  same  as  one 
and  one  make  two,  blackening  the  injured  as  well  as 
the  injurer.  We  had  a  sad  illustration  of  this  in  the 
tragedy  at  Holly  Hill  last  summer.  Poor  'Relius,  mad- 
dened by  his  wrongs,  slew  Rutherford,  and  there  were 
two  crimes,  and  should  he  be  hanged  eventually,"  and 
the  boy  shuddered,  "the  State,  too,  will  be  guilty  of  a 
crime,  and  three  crimes  will  have  been  committed." 


i62         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"Motlier's  Clirist  boy !"  cried  Dorothy.  "I  love  to 
hear  you  reason  in  that  cUvine  way.  You  have  been  an 
apt  pupil  of  Pierre  Custis.  I  made  no  mistake  in  giv- 
ing you  to  him.  Darhng,  do  you  know  that  for  months 
before  you  were  born — indeed,  from  the  moment  that 
Dr.  Custis  disclosed  to  me  his  grandeur  of  soul — you 
and  he  filled  all  my  thoughts?  I  longed  for  you  to 
be  a  boy  and  to  grow  up  a  man  like  him.  It  mastered 
me,  it  consumed  me,  did  this  longing,  enabling  me  to 
bear  everything  as  I  did.  I  sunk  myself  absolutely  in 
you  and  in  what  I  desired  you  to  be — another  Pierre 
Custis.  Your  father,  whom  a  fev/  months  before  I  had 
loved  so  insanely,  I  had  ceased  even  to  think  of.  He 
had  becom.e  to  me  as  a  dream  tliat  dies  with  the  night." 

"That  man  !  That  man  !"  shuddered  the  boy.  "Oh, 
that  Uncle  Pierre  were  my  father !  My  Uncle  Pierre ! 
How  can  I  love  him  enough?" 

"You  cannot,  darling!  He  is  a  god  among  men, 
Pierre  Custis  is !  And  Paul  Nelson  is  a  man  cast  in  the 
same  pattern.  If  I  had  not  already  given  you  to  Dr. 
Custis  when  I  became  his  wife,  he  would  have  been 
the  tenderest  of  fathers  to  you.  He  loves  you,  he  has 
always  loved  you,  as  if  you  were  liis  own  son." 

"I  believe  it,  motlier,  and  I  love  him  and  I  .^hall 
always  love  him,  for  what  he  has  been  to  you." 

"And  will  you  always  love  our  little  \'irginia — be 
as  a  brother  to  her,  as  indeed  you  are  ?" 

"Always,  mother.  Should  she  ever  be  left  alone  in 
the  world,  I  will  gladly  take  care  of  her  and  protect 
her  with  my  life  if  need  be.  Can  I  promise  more? 
But  why  do  you  talk  so  strangely,  mother?  It  makes 
me  sad,  somehow." 

"Forgive  me,  love.  I  would  have  you  always 
happy.  I  have  had  sadness  enough  for  both  of  us. 
Why,  how  late  it  is !  It  is  striking  three  o'clock.  It's 
a  shame  to  keep  vou  awake  like  this.  Good-nighty 
darling!" 

"Good-night,  mother  dearest !" 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         163 


Custis  opened  his  eyes  on  Christmas  morning  in  a 
deluge  of  gold. 

Dr.  Custis  stood  beside  his  bed,  his  hand  on  his. 

"Goodness!  I  have  overslept  myself!"  exclaimed 
the  lad,  springing  up  in  bed,  and  pulling  the  physician's 
face  down  to  his  for  his  morning  kiss. 

"It  is  ten  o'clock,"  replied  the  physician.  "But 
it  is  just  as  well  as  not  that  you  have  slept.  Custis,  I 
have  sad  news  for  you:  Mrs.  Nelson  has  gone 
from  us." 

"Gone  ?    Dead,  do  you  mean  ?" 

"Yes ;  Paul,  on  awakening,  found  her  dead  by 
his  side." 

Custis  fell  back  into  bed,  plunging  his  face  into 
the  pillow. 

The  Doctor  laid  his  hand  on  his  head,  and  after  a 
while  the  boy,  soothed  by  the  caress,  reached  forth  and 
drew  the  big,  loving  hand  into  his. 

"Was  she  so  much  to  you,  then,  son?"  asked  the 
physician,  when  the  lad  at  length  lifted  his  face,  drawn 
with  grief,  from  the  pillow. 

"Wasn't  she  my  mother?  Could  she  have  been 
more  ?" 

"How — how — why,  who  told  you  she  was  ?"■ 

"She  told  me.  She  came  to  me  in  the  night,  when 
you  were  all  asleep,  and  kissed  me  and  kissed  me  till 
I  awoke." 

"You  vvere  dreaming,  son,  weren't  you?" 

"I  thought  so  at  first.  Uncle  Pierre,  but  I  wasn't. 
She  told  me  the  whole  sad  story,  all  about  herself,  all 
about  myself,  and  how  like  God  you  had  acted  to- 
ward her." 

"She  could  bear  the  restraint  of  it  no  longer,  poor 
soul !  The  wonder  is  she  was  able  to  bear  it  so  long, 
loving  you  as  she  did.  Ell  go  back  to  Paul  now.  The 
poor  boy  is  utterly  crushed,  he  loved  your  mother  so. 


i64         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

Get  up,  son,  and  slip  into  your  clothes  as  soon  as  you 
can.    Paul  inquired  for  you  a  while  ago." 

And  when  Custis  was  dressed  he  went  and  looked 
on  the  face  of  his  mother  as  she  lay  garmented  for  the 
grave.  Paul  Nelson  came  and  stood  with  his  arm 
around  his  neck.  After  a  while  they  walked  to  w'here 
Dr.  Custis  w^as  and  sat  down,  the  desolate  husband 
drawing  the  motherless  boy  down  on  his  knee.  They 
were  one  in  the  death  of  Dorothy. 


1 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

September  was  mellowing  away,  but  the  Rich- 
mond folk  were  drinking  limeade  and  coca-cola  as 
thirstily  as  if  it  were  the  heart  of  summer,  the  heat 
upon  the  city  was  so  intense. 

The  college  campus  that  afternoon  was  alive  with 
students,  fresh  and  sun-browned  from  their  summer's 
rest.  Some  were  playing  ball,  others  looking  on,  and 
still  others  lounging  about  under  the  trees,  interested 
only  in  the  problem  of  keeping  cool. 

"Say,  boys,"  drawled  an  excessively-haired  sopho- 
more, pulling  up  his  trousers  so  as  to  show  more  of  his 
startling  stockings,  "did  you  know  we  had  with  us 
this  session  a  chappie  from  New  York — one  of  the 
Four  Hundred?" 

The  handsome,  well-dressed  freshman  at  whom 
this  arrow  was  aimed  flushed  sensitively,  and,  after  a 
moment,  moved  away.  The  youth  was  Pelham. Hunt- 
ington, now  in  his  eighteenth  year.  He  had  come  all 
the  way  from  New  York  to  begin  his  college  career  in 
the  land  of  his  fathers,  but  from  no  ancestral  senti- 
ment whatever.  He  had  read  in  a  Richmond  paper 
of  the  honors  won  by  Pierre  Custis  Christian  of  Gooch- 
land County,  Virginia,  the  session  before,  and  the 
longing  to  be  with  Custis — this,  and  this  alone — had 
brought  him  to  Richmond  College.  But  they  would 
be  together  only  one  session.  This  was  Custis's  last 
year.  He  was  a  senior ;  Pelham  a  freshman.  Still  a 
year  was  not  so  short,  after  all.    Lifelong  friendships, 

165 


i66        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

everlasting  loves,  had  been  formed  in  far  briefer 
periods.  He  had  seen  Custis  twice,  but  the  latter  had 
failed  to  recognize  him  either  time,  and  in  the  shyness 
born  of  his  love  for  Custis,  young  Huntington  could 
not  for  the  life  of  him  go  to  him  and  make  himself 
known.  And  so  the  poor  boy  was  very  desolate  as  he 
strolled  from  one  part  of  the  campus  to  the  other 
hungrily  watching  for  a  sight  of  the  beloved  form. 

As  he  walked  off,  hurt  by  the  remark  intended  for 
his  ear,  he  wished  he  had  not  come  to  Richmond  Col- 
lege, that  he  had  gone  to  Yale  as  his  father  had  desired 
him  to  do.  How  foolish  of  him  to  love,  to  idealize  one 
whom  he  had  seen  only  once  in  his  life!  Of  course, 
Custis  had  long  ago  forgotten  that  trivial  incident,  as 
every  one  else  would  have  done  but  a  sentimentalist 
like  himself. 

There  was  a  quick,  agile  step  behind  him — the 
step  of  one  who  knew  how  to  walk  and  reaped  delight 
in  the  doing  of  it. 

"Did  you  lose  your  handkerchief,  comrade?"  said 
a  voice  musically  masculine,  and  a  hand  was  laid  lightly 
on  Pelham's  shoulder. 

The  latter,  thrilled,  turned  quickly,  facing  the 
speaker.  It  was  Custis,  handsome  and  virile  as  men 
are  made. 

"Thank  you  very  much,"  said  Pelham,  blushing. 

"You  are  welcome,  I  am  sure." 

And  with  a  smile,  but  such  as  he  might  have  given 
any  stranger,  Custis  passed  on. 

"Say,  Cus,  where  are  you  off  to?"  shouted  a 
fellow-student  on  the  edge  of  the  crowd  witnessing 
the  game  of  ball. 

"For  a  tramp  where  the  river  winds  and  perhaps 
a  plunge.    It  is  hot  enough." 

"Believe  I'll  go  with  you." 

"Come  on,  then." 

But  two  instead  of  one  bounded  past  Pelham,  and 
the  three  started  off. 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         167 

And  poor  Pelham,  his  heart  crying  out  after  Cus- 
tis,  followed  the  trio,  keeping  at  an  unobtrusive  dis- 
tance. Along  fashionable  streets  and  streets  that  were 
not  fashionable,  through  obscure  lanes,  across  fields, 
down  hills  and  up  hills,  over  fern-fringed  streams  and 
through  cool,  sweet  woods,  they  moved  with  the  elas- 
ticity of  youth,  and  Pelham  as  energetically,  until  they 
came  to  the  shore  of  the  river,  where  elm  and  willow 
and  sweetgum  grew  together  in  loving  brotherliness, 
shadowing  sand  and  wave. 

The  water  was  turbulent  with  kids,  most  of  whom 
knew  Custis  because  of  his  frequent  visits  to  the  river 
in  warm  weather. 

"Hello,  Mr.  Christian!"  came  from  several  throats 
at  once. 

"Hello,  Bruiser !"  he  shouted  back,  beginning  with 
the  roughest  diamond  in  the  collection.  "Hello,  Jack! 
Hello,  Lee!" 

And  he  stood  watching  their  antics,  his  teeth 
gleaming  in  a  smile  that  bespoke  thorough  sympathy 
with  what  was  going  on. 

"Gentlemen,  I  know  not  your  intentions,"  he  said, 
turning  to  his  companions.  "But  I  am  going  to  join 
those  little  sons  of  men.  I  have  been  panting  all  day 
to  hug  the  James." 

And  he  stepped  behind  a  waist-high  willow  and 
proceeded  to  get  out  of  his  garments  to  the  tune  of 
"Suwanee  River,"  while  his  fellow-seniors  fell  also  to 
unclothing  themselves  to  the  same  tune.  Stripped  first, 
they  plunged  into  the  water.  Presently  Custis  came 
forth,  pausing  beside  Pelham, 

"Will  3'ou  join  us  ?"  he  said,  cordially. 

Pelham  declined,  and  Custis  turned  and  skipped 
to  the  water's  edge. 

"Here  comes  the  Old  Dominion  steamer!"  shouted 
Bruiser,  as  the  athletic  pride  of  Richmond  College 
sprang  into  the  river,  causing  commotion  alike  among 
the  waves  and  the  kids,  the  latter  standing  up  and 


i68        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

looking  at  him  in  big-eyed,  open-mouthed  admiration, 
as  he  reappeared  on  the  crest  of  a  huge  wave, 

"Bruiser,  I  thought  you  were  my  friend,"  he  said, 
in  a  voice  that  evidently  disturbed  Bruiser. 

"So  I  am." 

"It  doesn't  look  that  way,  Bruiser.  Didn't  you 
liken  me  to  an  Old  Dominion  steamer  ?" 

"I  jes'  meant  you  churned  the  river  all  up  when 
you  jumped  in,  you  so  big  and  strong." 

"You  mean  I  am  a  Jumbo?" 

"No,  suh,  I  don't;  no,  suh." 

And  Bruiser  came  closer  to  Custis,  anxious  to 
atone  for  his  unwitting  offense.  And  the  other  kids, 
too,  flocked  about  him,  to  the  last  one  of  them.  They 
had  all  learned  to  love  him,  this  big-limbed,  big- 
hearted,  democratic  boy,  so  in  love  with  his  fellows. 

Pelham's  loneliness  went  from  him  in  the  general 
merriment,  and  presently  he  found  himself  laughing 
because  Custis  and  the  kids  were  laughing. 

"My  Custis !  My  hero !"  he  exclaimed  to  himself. 
"Tender  and  sweet-hearted  as  of  old.  Only  you  have 
forgotten  poor  little  Pelham,  who  has  loved  you  all 
these  years." 

.t  Suddenly  there  was  a  sharp  cry  from  an  eight- 
year-old  near  the  shore,  and  he  went,  limping,  out 
of  the  water. 

"What's  the  matter,  my  boy?"  asked  Pelham. 

"I  done  cut  my  foot  with  a  piece  of  glass." 

Here  Custis  sprang  out  of  the  river,  gathered  the 
child  up  in  his  arms,  and,  dropping  on  the  sand,  laid 
the  little  one  across  his  legs  and  examined  his  foot, 
which  was  bleeding  profusely. 

"It  is  a  bad  cut,  but  nothing  serious,  Pete.  I'll 
bind  it  up  for  you  so  as  to  keep  the  dirt  out.  Would 
you  kindly  get  my  handkerchief  for  me?"  addressing 
Pelham.  'You'll  find  it  in  the  pocket  of  my  shirt,  over 
there  behind  that  little  willow." 

"Take    mine."    said    Pelham,    who    would    have 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         169 

offered  his  shirt  as  gladly  in  his  eagerness  to  serve  his 
hero. 

But  Custis  demurred. 

"Weren't  you  going  to  use  yours?"  demanded 
Pelham,  in  a  hurt  voice.  "Here,  take  it!"  and  he 
gently  threw  the  piece  of  linen  into  Custis's  hand. 

"All  right,  if  you  insist.    Thank  you." 

Custis  washed  the  boy's  foot  thoroughly,  and, 
folding  the  handkerchief,  bandaged  the  wound  as  ten- 
derly as  the  lad's  mother  could  have  done.  Pete's  sobs 
had  already  ceased.    He  was  inspecting  Custis's  biceps. 

"I  bet  you  could  lick  Jeffries,"  he  said. 

"Shucks!"  sniffed  Bruiser,  who,  with  the  other 
kids,  had  followed  Custis  ashore.  "He  could  knock 
Jeffries  out  in  the  first  round.  Whyn't  you  try  it,  Mr. 
Christian?" 

"Because  I  am  not  a  candidate  for  pugilistic  glory, 
my  belo-o-ed  Bruiser.  Prize  fighting  is  not  to  Mr.  Chris- 
tian's taste." 

"You  could  lick  him,  though,  if  you  wanted  to," 
pursued  Bruiser,  confidently.  "Gee  Buck!  Ain't  he 
got  one  muscle  on  him,"  he  added,  in  awed  tones  to 
the  kid  next  to  him.  "I  don't  reckon  you'd  take  a 
hundred  dollars  for  your  muscle,  would  you,  M 
Christian?" 

"That's  rather  a  mean  amount,  Bruiser." 

"A  thousand,  then?"  suggested  Pete. 

Custis  shook  his  head. 

"I  reckon  you'd  take  a  million  dollars,"  said 
Bruiser. 

"Nor  a  million,"  replied  Custis.  "Gentlemen,  the 
Christian  muscle  is  not  for  sale  at  any  price." 

And,  laughing,  he  put  Pete  on  his  feet  and  sprang 
to  his  own,  as  one  of  his  companions  shouted  from  a 
rock  out  in  midriver: 

"Aren't  you  coming  in  any  more?" 

The  kids,  except  the  damaged  Pete,  all  rushed 
back  into  the  water. 


170        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"You  won't  go  in,  then?"  said  Custis  again  to 
Pelham. 

'T — I  can't  swim,"  replied  young  Huntington, 
blushing  as  if  he  were  confessing  some  misdeed. 

"Oh,  that's  nothing,"  said  Custis,  divining  how 
he  felt  about  it.  "There  are  lots  of  boys  who,  like 
you,  can't  swim,  and  they  are  as  fine  fellows  as  those 
who  can,  only  they  miss  a  huge  amount  of  fun; 
that's  all." 

"I  am  aware  of  that." 

"What's  the  matter  with  your  learning?  I  will 
teach  you.  I  would  love  to  do  it.  I  have  taught  other 
boys  to  swim,  and  some  of  them  can  do  aquatic  stunts 
that  I  can't  do,"  and  he  laughed,  burrowing  his  great 
toe  in  the  sand.  "Come,  strip  off  and  I'll  give  you  the 
first  lesson.  A  second  one  may  be  unnecessary,  you 
may  suddenly  develop  such  duck-like  daring." 

And  Pelham  at  once  proceeded  to  obey  him,  as 
one  impelled  by  some  powerful  hypnotic  influence. 

"That's  a  good  boy,"  said  Custis,  soothingly. 
"There's  a  large  clean  rock  back  of  that  willow.  Put 
your  clothes  there  with  mine.  My  friends  tell  me  you 
are  from  New  York,  but  they  couldn't  think  of  your 
name." 

"Yes,  I  live  in  New  York." 

"I  hope  you  feel  at  home  among  us." 

"I  have  been  very  lonely — until  now." 

"You  have?  That's  too  bad.  Loneliness  is  no 
light  thing.  Look  here !  Where  have  I  seen  you 
before?  The  more  I  look  at  you  the  more  I  am  con- 
vinced that  I  have  met  you  somewhere.  What  is  your 
name  ?" 

"Oh,  Custis!    Custis!    Don't  you  know  me?" 

"Why,  it's — can  it  be — Pelham  Huntington?  Yes, 
yes!    Pelham!     Pelham!    You  dear  boy !" 

And  Pelham  felt  himself  drawn  into  the  clasp  of 
the  big,  bare  arms  and  kissed  as  tenderly  as  if  he 
were  a  little  child,  and  when  the  strong,  loving  arms 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         i;i 

fell  from  about  him  there  was  a  Hght  all  over  his  face 
that  told  of  the  passing  of  his  loneliness. 

"How  stupid  of  me  not  to  know  you,"  said  Custis. 
"But  you  see  I  never  dreamed  of  your  coming  South  to 
college,  and  then  I  had  not  looked  you  squarely  in 
the  face  until  a  minute  ago.  You  have  changed,  too, 
my  boy.    Are  you  aware  of  that  ?" 

"Changed?    How?" 

"Why,  you  are  not  as  delicate-looking  as  you  were. 
You  are  stouter  and  pinker." 

"It  is  pleasant  to  hear  that,  and  from  you." 

"Oh,  you  are  all  right!  You  might  be  a  little 
more  robust,  but  if  you  will  just  put  yourself  into  my 
hands,  I  will  shape  you  out  perfectly.  Of  course,  it  is 
beyond  me  to  bring  you  up  to  the  proportions  of 
Taffee  when  you  are  cut  in  the  daintier  pattern  of  Little 
Billee ;  but  I  promise  you  that  the  folk  at  home  will  not 
know  their  little  boy  when  he  returns  to  them  next 
June.  Pelham,  my  boy,"  he  broke  out  warmly,  "I  am 
just  overjoyed  to  see  you  again!  I  haven't  been  so 
happy  in  a  long,  long  time.  You  don't  know  how  I 
love  you  and  have  thought  of  you,  little  boy,  since  that 
day  we  parted  in  Hollywood." 

"Really,  Custis?  Really?"  sighing  from  sheer 
happiness. 

"Yes,  really,  you  modern  Thomas.  It  isn't  gener- 
ous of  you  to  doubt  me  like  that.  Say,  talk  to  me ;  tell 
me  some  things  I  don't  knov/." 

And  Custis  flung  himself  in  boyish  abandon  on 
the  sand,  pulling  Pelham  gently  down  beside  him. 

"And  you  have  been  at  college  a  whole  week — in 
the  identical  structure  with  me — and  refused  to  speak 
to  me  ?    That  looks  as  if  you  loved  me  ?" 

"It  was  because  I  love  you  that  I  couldn't  obtrude 
myself  upon  you.  I  thought  you  had  forgotten  me, 
Custis,  and  it  hurt  me  so  I  could  have  cried." 

"Poor  little  chap !  But  it  is  all  right  now,  isn't 
it  ?    You  know  now  I  love  you,  don't  you  ?" 


172         REBELS  OF  THE  XEW  SOITTH 

''Yes ;  the  hurt  is  all  gone."  in  a  voice  vibrant 
with  joy. 

Custis  scooped  up  a  pahn  full  of  sand  and  began 
to  sift  it  through  his  fingers. 

"Your  mother  is  well?"  he  questioned. 

"Yes." 

"And  your  father  is  not  ill  ?" 

"No." 

"And  Aliss  Johnson  hasn't  succumbed  to  appendi- 
citis or  matrimony  ?" 

"To  the  latter  she  has." 

"She  changed  her  mind  then  about  going  into  a 
convent?    That  was  sensible  of  her." 

And  Custis  scooped  up  another  palm  full  of  sand 
and  sifted  it  through  his  fingers. 

"And  Virginia  —  how  is  she  ?  She  is  not  — 
married  ?" 

"No." 

"By  the  way,  didn't  I  call  her  Virginia?" 

"Yes ;  but  that  was  all  right." 

"It  was  a  bold,  bad  break.  Pardon  me,  Pelham. 
I'll  tell  you  how  it  came  about.  Virginia  is  a  very 
familiar  name  to  me.  For  two  years  the  sweetesf 
little  girl  the  Lord  ever  created  has  made  her  home 
with  us,  and  her  name  is  Virginia — Virginia  Nelson. 
Have  you  a  sweetheart,  Pelham?" 

"No,  Custis." 

"Then  I'll  give  you  my  little  Virginia,  but  you'll 
have  to  wait  some  years  for  her.  Let  me  show  you  her 
picture.    I  have  it  in  my  ])ocket." 

He  rose  to  get  it,  breaking  softly  into  a  fragment 
of  "Annie  Laurie" : 

"Ilcr  brow   is   like   the   snowdrift, 
Her  throat  is  like  the  swan." 

"Roosevelt  and  Santiago!  There's  a  woman.  Pel- 
ham !  A  woman,  and  she  is  on  the  warpath !" 

There  was  a  gleam  of  nude  limbs  through  willows 
and   Custis   was   out  of  sight,   leaving   Pelham   con- 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         173 

fronted  by  a  slovenly  virago,  senselessly  striking  the 
air  with  a  switch. 

"You  Lee-ah !  You  Lee-ah  Garrett !"  she 
screeched. 

But  the  namesake  of  Robert  E.  Lee  failed  to  an- 
swer. An  oppressive  silence  reigned  among  the  kids, 
so  boisterously  in  evidence  a  moment  ago.  Only  two 
of  the  crowd  had  the  temerity  to  show  their  heads, 
and  they  stirred  listlessly  about  in  the  water,  as  if 
life  had  suddenly  lost  all  interest  for  them. 

"You  Lee-ah!  Lee-ah  Garrett!"  continued  the 
shrew.  "Taint  no  use  makin'  out  you  don't  hear  me. 
If  you  don't  come  out  that  water  there  Fll  skin  you 
alive!" 

"Lee  ain't  here  nov/heres,  Mrs.  Garrett,"  ven- 
tured Bruiser,  lying  magnanimously  in  the  effort  to 
shield  his  comrade  from  maternal  wrath. 

"Lee-ah !  You  Lee-ah  !  If  you  don't  answer  me 
I'll  take  every  one  of  your  duds,  and  a  pretty  chromo 
you'll  make  trotting  home  without  'em,  won't  you?" 

And  in  violent  agitation  she  seized  Custis's  clothes 
and  started  off,  as  if  to  put  her  threat  into  fact. 

Pelham  followed,  touching  her  lightly  on  the  arm. 

"Pardon  me,  my  good  woman,"  he  said,  "but 
you  have  the  wrong  clothes." 

She  flung  them  at  his  feet  and  glared  viciously. 

"What  you  take  me  for — a  thief?" 

"Certainly  not.     It  was  only  a  mistake." 

"Then  what  you  raising  such  a  racket  about? 
I'd  have  you  to  know  I'm  a  lady,  my  fine  dude — a  lady, 
a  lady!" 

And  she  turned  witheringly  from  him,  resuming 
her  infernal  yells  for  one  "Lee-ah,"  while  Pelham 
started  in  search  of  Custis,  bearing  the  latter's  clothes. 

"This  way,  Pelham !"  shouted  Custis,  laughing,  as 
he  poked  his  head  from  out  the  confusion  of  honey- 
suckle, wild  rose  and  sweet  bay  in  which  he  had  hidden. 

"And   she   attempted   to   confiscate   my   trousers, 


174         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

garters,  etc.,  etc.,  did  she?  The  droll  girl!  But  you 
held  her  up,  you  made  her  drop  them?  Pelham,  you 
are  plucky ;  you  are  a  hero.  Do  you  know  it,  my  son  ? 
Listen  to  that  poor  kid's  cries,  will  you?  She  is  posi- 
tively murdering  him." 

"Custis!  Custis!  Where  in  the  thunder  are 
you  ?"  cried  one  of  his  fellow-seniors,  as  he  sprang  out 
of  the  water,  followed  by  the  other. 

"Here  I  am,  William,  enmeshed  in  honeysuckle 
and  other  vegetation  that  makes  for  fragrance.  But 
I'm  going  to  get  out  of  the  tangle." 

And,  laughing,  he  stepped  out  among  his  com- 
panions where  only  grass  and  violets  grew. 

"Gentlemen,  you  are  just  in  time  to  rejoice  with 
me — say,  Pelham,  isn't  that  she  coming  this  way? 
Boys !  Boys !  Run !  Fly !  Flee  from  the  wrath  to 
come !    She  is  moving  upon  us — that  loud  lady !" 

"Let  her  come !  I  don't  care  a  blackberry,"  an- 
swered William,  doggedly.  "What  business  has  a 
woman  prowling  around  where  men  and  boys  go 
bathing?" 

"Theoretically,  you  are  right,  William.  The  lady 
is  undoubtedly  trespassing  on  stag  territory.  But  a 
condition,  not  a  theory,  confronts  us,  and,  regai-dless 
of  our  rights  in  the  premises,  we  must  withdraw  until 
the  lady  passes.  Tliere  she  is !  Back  to  where  the 
honeysuckle  grows !    Ouch,  my  toe !" 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

They  had  walked  five  miles  or  more  and  stood, 
red-cheeked,  on  the  edge  of  a  forest  where  the  wild 
grapes  hung  ripe  and  abundant. 

A  fortnight's  close  intercourse  had  made  them  as 
one — these  two  white  young  Hves,  these  sweet  sons 
of  the  same  sire. 

"These  grapes  are  good,  Custis,"  remarked  Pel- 
ham,  who,  with  Custis,  had  devoured  cluster  after 
cluster.    'T  never  ate  Malagas  with  keener  relish." 

"This  October  air  and  our  long  tramp  are  largely 
responsible  for  the  relish,"  laughed  Custis. 

"Probably.  Is  October  in  Virginia  always  glori- 
ous like  this,  Custis?" 

"Now  and  then  we  have  a  sunless  day,  but  most 
of  the  month  is  like  this." 

"Isn't  it  divine?" 

And  Pelham  swept  off  his  hat,  baring  his  hair  to 
the  pine-spiced  breezes. 

"Oh,  I  am  so  happy,  Custis !    I  love  life  so !" 

"Your  face  tells  it  eloquently,  and  not  only  your 
face,  but  also  your  voice  and  your  step.  There  is  a 
gladness  in  the  one,  there  is  a  spring  in  the  other,  that 
do  my  heart  good.  I  shall  succeed  splendidly  with  you. 
I  shall  build  you  into  a  grand  little  athlete.  I  am 
succeeding  already,  you  are  so  apt  a  pupil." 

"And  do  you  know  why  ?" 

Custis  shook  his  head,  and  with  one  bound 
sprang  over  the  snake  fence  toward  which  they  had 
been  moving,  arm  in  arm. 

"75 


176        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"It  is  because  I  love  my  tutor  and  want  to  be  like 
him,"  said  Pelham,  when  he  had  followed  Custis  over 
the  fence.  "I  realize,  however,  that  I  can  never  attain 
your  strength,  your  physique,  no  matter  how  hard  I 
try.  But  I  am  satisfied.  I  can  rejoice  in  your  strength. 
The  bigness,  the  beauty  of  you  make  me  positively 
joyous.  I  lose  myself,  I  become  you,  I  love  you  so. 
You  understand?" 

"Perfectly.  We  are  one,  little  brother,  you  and  I ; 
as  Uncle  Pierre  and  I  are  one.  And  when  you  come  to 
know  him,  as  you  will  soon,  we  three  shall  be  one — a 
trinity  of  lovers,  working  to  make  other  men  lovers, 
working  for  the  fraternization  of  the  world.  Pelham, 
there  is  in  you  the  making  of  one  of  the  finest  Socialists 
in  the  world." 

"Why,  Custis?" 

"Why?  Because  of  your  marvelous  capacity  for 
loving,  your  divine  way  of  losing  yourself  in  others, 
your  exquisite  refinement.  No  one  possessed  of  such 
attributes  can  but  turn  with  loathing  from  the  ugliness 
of  individualism  and  long  and  work  and  spend  himself 
for  its  overthrow." 

"You  are  as  w^arm  a  Socialist  as  ever,  I  sec  ?" 

"Yes,  a  red-hot  one,  and  scientific  and  uncom- 
promising as  Karl  Marx  himself.  Did  you  think,  be- 
cause I  hadn't  brought  up  the  subject  before,  that  I 
had  outgrown  my  boyhood's  dream  of  reconstructing 
society — that  I  had  forsaken  the  way  of  salvation  for 
the  human  race?  What  do  you  say  to  taking  up  the 
study  of  socialism  with  me.  I  won't  say  I  wish  to 
make  a  Socialist  of  you.  Socialists,  like  poets,  are  born, 
not  made.  You  have  the  germ  of  one  in  you ;  it  needs 
quickening,  that's  all." 

"And  it  has  been  quickened,  Custis.  You  did  it 
long  ago." 

"You  don't  tell  me  vou  are  a  Socialist — full- 
fledged?" 

"Full-fledged." 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         177 

"You  charming  chap !    Tell  me  all  about  it." 

"And  Virginia  is  a  Socialist,  too,  Custis !" 

"Virginia  a  Socialist !"  clapping  his  hands.  "Why, 
that's  joyful  news !  But  how  did  all  this  come  about  ? 
Tell  me  the  story  of  it  while  we  take  a  sunset  bath 
on  this  clover.  I  suspect  you  are  a  little  tired  after 
your  long  tramp.  You  are  not  up  to  me  as  a  pedes- 
trian yet,  you  city-bred  people  are  so  addicted  to  the 
trolley  vice." 

And  they  stretched  themselves  on  the  deep,  cool 
clover  that  embroidered  the  roadside. 

"Now,  Little  Billee,  I  am  ready,"  said  Custis,  roll- 
ing over  on  his  right  side  and  facing  Pelham. 

"You  remember  your  telling  me  you  were  a  So- 
cialist that  day  in  Hollywood?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  that  one  sentence  of  yours  is  what  started 
the  work." 

"Yes?" 

"I  told  Virginia  you  were  a  Socialist." 

"You  and  your  sister  are  warm  chums,  I  imagine  ? 
Well,  what  did  she  say?  Was  she  long  in  recovering 
from  the  shock?" 

"She  declared  that  I  had  misunderstood  you.  You 
couldn't  be  one  of  those  things,  she  said.  Why,  they 
were  Anarchists.  The  newspapers  always  spoke  of 
them  as  the  same  sort  of  people,  and  they  were  hor- 
ribly wicked.  They  hated  the  rich,  they  wanted  to  kill 
them,  and  they  were  unwashed  and  unkempt  and  long- 
haired and  ignorant.  No,  no,  Custis  couldn't  be  a  So- 
cialist, she  declared  again  and  again,  and  I  declared  as 
stoutly  that  you  were.  At  last  I  suggested  that  we 
consult  the  Encyclopsedia  Brittanica  and  see  what  that 
had  to  say  of  Socialists  and  Socialism.  She  agreed, 
and  together  we  hunted  the  subject  up,  and  it  was  a 
revelation  to  us.  Virginia  vowed  she  would  never 
again  believe  anvthing  a  newspaper  said." 


178        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"So  your  prejudices  were  removed?  Then  what 
did  you  and  Virginia  do  next?" 

"We  rested  the  matter  there  for  a  year  or  more, 
so  far  as  further  investigation  was  concerned,  but  our 
interest  in  the  subject  by  no  means  dechned.  One  day 
two  of  father's  club  friends — RepubHcans  and  pluto- 
crats like  himself — were  taking  dinner  with  us,  when 
the  discussion  turned  on  Rockefeller's  colossal  wealth. 
'By  the  way,  Huntington,'  said  one  of  the  men,  'what 
do  you  think  of  Lloyd's  "Wealth  Against  Common- 
wealth," showing  up  the  Standard  Oil  Trust?'  'Well, 
between  us,  gentlemen,'  replied  father,  'it  is  undoubt- 
edly true,  every  line  of  the  book;  but  such  books  are 
calculated  to  do  a  world  of  mischief.  They  inflame 
the  mob  and  give  an  impetus  to  Bellamyism.  They 
lash  the  discontented  into  Socialists  and  Anarchists.' 
Virginia  and  I  smiled  at  each  other,  and  when  we 
were  alone  she  said :  'Let's  find  that  book,  Pelham,  and 
read  it.  I  am  curious  to  know  if  it  will  lash  me  into 
a  Socialist.'  So  we  found  the  book,  and  every  evening 
we  would  get  together  and  Virginia  would  read 
aloud  two  or  three  chapters,  until,  at  last,  the  book 
was  finished.  You  wouldn't  have  thought  a  girl  of 
sixteen  and  a  boy  of  thirteen,  as  we  were  at  the  time, 
would  have  been  interested  in  a  work  of  that  kind ;  but 
we  were,  and  deeply.  It  fascinated  us  like  a  novel, 
and  it  made  us  angry,  too.  We  were  afire  with  indig- 
nation most  of  the  time  we  were  reading  it." 

"And  you  came  to  the  conclusion  that  Mr.  Rocke- 
feller and  his  confederates  are  the  only  anarchists  to 
be  feared?" 

"Yes,  and  we  are  still  of  that  opinion.  Then, 
having  heard  father  use  the  word  Bellamyism  as  a 
thing  synonymous  with  socialism,  we  bought  'Looking 
Backward,'  and  we  became  at  once  absorbed  in  the 
book.  I  can't  tell  you  how  it  delighted  us.  We  wanted 
just  such  a  condition  of  affairs  as  Julian  West  ran  up 
against  when  he  awakened  out  of  his  century's  sleep. 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         179 

In  short,  the  book  showed  us  where  we  were.  We 
were  with  you;  we  were  SociaHsts,  and  we  proudly 
proclaimed  ourselves  as  such  to  father  and  mother. 
Mother  was  almost  as  horrified  as  father.  But  we 
immediately  took  her  in  hand,  Virginia  and  I,  and  we 
have  nearly  brought  her  to  where  we  are,  though  she 
stoutly  protests  that  she  is  still  a  Democrat  and  intends 
to  die  one." 

"How  interesting  all  this  is — delightfully  so!" 
cried  Custis,  rolling  gleefully  over  on  his  back  and 
pillowing  his  head  on  his  palms. 

'T  felt  that  the  making  of  a  Socialist  was  in  you," 
he  said,  "but  I  did  not  dream  you  had  made  such 
astounding  progress.  And  your  sister — why,  she  is  a 
sister  that  a  boy  ought  to  adore !" 

"And  that's  what  I  do.  She  is  a  girl  in  ten  thou- 
sand, Virginia  Yancey  is !"  inflating  his  breast  with 
pride. 

The  sunlight  had  gone  from  the  clover  and  the 
crickets  were  holding  evensong  out  in  the  goldenrod 
and  broomstraw  when  Custis  and  Pelham  rose  to  walk 
back  to  college. 

"Do  you  intend  to  follow  your  Uncle  Pierre  into 
the  medical  profession,  Custis?"  asked  Pelham,  when 
they  had  gone  some  distance. 

"I  don't  know,  Pelham.  My  mind  is  not  made  up 
yet  as  to  what  calling  I  shall  pursue.  I  ought  to  have 
hit  upon  some  definite  course  by  this  time,  as  this 
is  my  last  session  at  college.  But  Uncle  Pierre  insists 
that  there  is  plenty  of  time.  Besides,  he  wishes  me  to 
take  a  course  at  Yale  when  I  am  done  at  Richmond 
College." 

"You  will  do  it,  Custis?"  ' 

"I  don't  know,  Pelham." 

"You  must !  You  must  do  it !  You  would  be  near 
us  then ;  and  I  would  go  to  Yale  myself  next  session, 
instead  of  coming  back  here.  I  couldn't  bear  the  loneli- 
ness of  Richmond  College  with  you  gone.     Yes,  that 


i8o         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

will  be  the  very  thing.    You  will  go  to  Yale,  Custis?" 

"Ah,  little  boy !  You  don't  know  how  I  feel  about 
it.  Uncle  Pierre  has  already  done  so,  so  much  for 
me — more  than  he  was  able  to  do.  My  going  through 
college  here,  I  fear,  has  been  a  great  drain  upon  his 
resources,  although  he  protests  that  he  is  able  to  bear 
it  and  commands  me  to  be  quiet  when  I  speak  of  the 
matter.  All  the  same,  I  feel  as  if  I  were  imposing 
upon  him.  Of  course,  I  am.  A  big,  strong  fellow 
such  as  I  am  ought  to  be  making  his  own  way  in  the 
world,  and  not  only  this,  but  I  ought  to  be  putting 
myself  in  shape  to  care  for  Uncle  Pierre  should  I  be 
called  upon  to  do  it.  I  am  afraid  he  is  not  as  strong 
as  he  used  to  be  and  is  hiding  the  fact  from  me.  He 
has  always  looked  out  for  others  so  that  he  has  had 
no  time  to  think  of  himself.  So  long  as  he  could  keep 
the  rain  from  falling  on  his  neighbor  he  has  never 
cared  whether  he  got  wet  himself  or  not.  He  is 
literally  worn  out  in  serving  others.  For  me  he  has 
given  himself  an  absolute  sacrifice.  And  it  is  beginning 
to  tell  on  him — this  tireless  devotion  to  others,  to  the 
utter  neglect  of  self.  He  is  getting  thin ;  he  looks 
tired,  so  tired,  particularly  when  he  is  asleep,  that  I 
feel  as  if  I  could  fling  myself  on  his  breast  and  sob  my 
life  away  for  sheer  sadness." 

"May  it  not  be  possible  that  your  love  colors 
things?"  ventured  Pelham. 

"He  laughs  at  my  anxiety,"  answered  Custis,  "and 
says  he  is  the  better  man  of  the  two,  notwithstanding 
appearances.  I  only  wish  I  could  believe  it,  for  I 
can't  bear  the  thought  of  a  time  coming  when  I  shall 
not  have  him  with  me." 

They  had  come  to  a  brook,  and  it  was  some  min- 
utes after  they  had  crossed  it  before  the  conversation 
was  resumed.    Custis  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"When  I  go  through  the  city  and  see  hundreds  of 
boys  and  girls — mere  children — going  home  after  a 
long,  hard  day's  work,  I  arraign  myself  at  once  as  a 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         i8i 

parasite.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  no  right  to  breathe,  I  am 
so  overwhelmed  with  shame.  Ambitious  as  I  am  to 
go  through  college,  I  would  not  have  returned  this 
session — I  would  have  enlisted  in  the  ranks  of  bread- 
winners— if  I  had  not  been  convinced  that  such  a 
course  w^ould  have  cut  Uncle  Pierre  to  the  death.  It 
is  the  one  ambition  of  his  life  that  I  become  a  scholar, 
and  he  is  willing  to  undergo  any  sacrifice  to  see  me 
through," 

"Your  Uncle  Pierre  is  a  wise  man,"  reflected  Pel- 
ham.  "He  knows  what  is  in  you  better  than  you  know 
yourself.  He  foresees  for  you  a  noble  future,  and, 
loving  you  as  he  does,  he  feels  that  he  is  doing  only 
his  duty  in  equipping  you  for  your  life's  work." 

"Pelham,  you  are  a  sage !"  exclaimed  Custis,  hug- 
ging the  boy. 

"I  am  nothing  of  the  kind ;  but  I  can  see  far 
enough  into  things  to  appreciate  your  Uncle  Pierre's 
position,  and  I  am  grieved  to  find  you  so  unruly  as  to 
be  inclined  to  kick.  You  wull  go  not  only  through 
Richmond  College,  bearing  off  your  j\I.  A.  in  June, 
Custis  Christian,  but  you  will  also  go  to  Yale  next  ses- 
sion, as  Dr.  Custis  desires  you  to  do  and  as  ^Ir.  Pel- 
ham  Huntington  commands  you." 

Then  his  voice  became  low  and  his  manner  hesi- 
tating, as  he  continued : 

"If  your  Uncle  Pierre  should  find  himself  unable 
to  cover  the  expense  involved — why,  you  know — yes, 
of  course,  it  w^ould  be  covered,  and  gladly.  You  under- 
stand me,  Custis?" 

"I  think  I  do." 

"I  have  not  hurt  you,  Custis?" 

"No,  no ;  on  the  contrary,  I  am  touched,  Pelham ; 
but  I  could  never  think  of  such  a  thing  as  you  have 
in  mind." 

"Yes,  you  could  and  you  would.  You  wouldn't 
hurt  me  any  more  than  you  would  hurt  your  Uncle 
Pierre.     Oh,  Custis!    I  want  you  to  have  every  ad- 


i82         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

vantage  possible,  I  am  so  proud  of  you.  I  love  you 
so — love  you  as  you  love  Dr.  Custis.  It  was  this  that 
brought  me  down  here — my  love  for  you,  my  longing 
to  be  with  you,  and  nothing  else." 

"Pelham !" 

"For  no  other  reason  did  I  come.  I  learned  you 
were  a  student  at  Richmond  College,  and  I  yearned  to 
be  near  you." 

"My  little  brother!" 

"Oh,  that  I  were !" 

"You  are,  Pelham !  You  arc !  I  mean,  after  the 
spirit,  and  that  means  more — much  more — than  a 
brother  after  the  flesh." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

"If  I  were  a  conservative,  believing,  as  he  does,  in 
no  higher  code  of  ethics  than  that  which  custom  estab- 
hshes,  I  should  find  no  difficulty  in  mapping  out  my 
future.  I  would  select  one  of  the  popular  professions 
— theology,  law,  medicine,  or  journalism — with  never 
a  thought  as  to  the  prostitution  of  soul  involved.  And 
then  to  get  there,  when  once  the  choice  was  made — 
this  would  be  the  one  thought  controlling  me.  But  I 
am  not  an  individualist,  you  see.  And  there's  the 
rub,  as  the  young  pessimist  of  Denmark  once  ob- 
served." 

They  were  passing  the  Confederate  Soldiers' 
Home,  when  Custis  delivered  himself  of  these 
thoughts. 

"The  trouble  with  me  is,"  he  continued,  "I  am 
afflicted  with  a  social  conscience,  and  a  stalwart,  wide- 
awake monitor  it  is,  this  social  conscience  of  mine.  I 
love  my  fellow-men,  but  it  tells  me  that  success,  as 
the  world  defines  success,  lies  over  the  bodies  of  my 
brothers." 

Here  the  youths  stepped  out  of  the  way  of  a 
wheelman  and  a  wheelwoman,  whose  aggregate 
avoirdupois  was  not  far  from  five  hundred. 

"It  would  be  a  great  thing,  a  glorious  thing,  to 
proclaim  the  unadulterated  truth  for  which  Jesus  stood 
and  for  which  Conservatism  crucified  him,"  continued 
Custis,  when  the  bicycling  heavyweights  had  rolled 
by.    "But  if  I  declared  war  against  hypocrisy  and  real 

183 


i84         REBELS  OE  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

wickedness,  as  He  did ;  if  I  attempted  any  such  anar- 
chistic proceeding  as  to  drive  the  usurers  out  of  the 
temple,  denouncing  them  as  thieves,  as  recorded  of 
Him,  I  would  find  myself,  instead  of  the  money- 
changers, out  on  tlie  sidewalk." 

"There  is  where  the  outraged  saints  would  land 
such  an  anarchist,"  said  Pelham.  "I  have  an  idea 
that  they  would  land  you  further  than  that — in  jail. 
So  you  have  thought  of  the  ministry  ?" 

"Yes,  but  I  soon  abandoned  the  thought.  The  man 
who  takes  Jesus  seriously  finds  the  Church  a  very  lone- 
ly place." 

"Undoubtedly.  Still,  here  and  there,  you  will  find 
a  minister,  who,  having  come  to  a  knowledge  of  the 
truth,  dares  proclaim  it,  regardless  of  consequences. 
There  is  Rev.  Dr.  Heber  Newton  of  New  York,  for  in- 
stance. Mother,  Virginia  and  I  are  communicants  of 
All  Souls'  Church,  you  know.  You  ought  to  hear  the 
gloriously  audacious  things  that  Dr.  Newton  is  all  the 
time  saying.  For  years  he  has  held  his  own  by  the 
sheer  force  of  his  personality,  and  I  am  confident  that 
your  personality  w^ould  enable  you  to  do  the  same." 

"Perhaps  so,  but  I  am  unwilling  to  take  any  risk 
on  my  personality.  Jesus's  was  the  most  masterful 
personality  the  world  has  ever  known,  yet  it  failed  to 
avert  the  tragedy  of  Calvary." 

"Yes,  yes ;  I  can't  understand  it  all."  Then,  after 
a  sigh:  "Well,  how  about  the  law?  Have  you  had  a 
leaning  in  that  direction  ?" 

"None  whatever.  Still,  I  think  the  law  would  be 
a  noble  calling  if  it  upheld  justice  instead  of  defeating 
it.  But  it  seems  to  me  as  if  the  law  were  only  intended 
to  apply  to  the  poor,  the  weak ;  not  to  the  rich,  the 
])Owerful.  What  do  Mr.  Rockefeller  and  his  kind  care 
for  the  law?  Don't  they  openly,  flagrantly  defy  it? 
Don't  they  laugh  in  the  face  of  it?  And  the  poor 
themselves  laugh  at  the  absurdity  of  one's  believing 
that  the  law  could  ever  touch  such  men.    A  lawyer,  if 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         185 

he  wish  to  be  successful,  has  to  champion  the  in- 
terests of  capitaHsm  and  turn  his  back  deliberately  on 
the  people.  If  he  have  political  ambition,  he  has  to 
prostitute  himself  thoroughly,  else  he  will  find  himself 
ruthlessly  thrust  out  into  the  cold.  Recall,  if  you 
please,  the  fate  of  Attorney-General  Monnett  of  Ohio 
because  of  his  efforts  to  make  the  Standard  Oil  Trust 
toe  the  mark.  What  did  he  get  for  it?  Why,  the  Re- 
publicans— the  party  of  morality  and  patriotism — 
promptly  turned  Mr.  Monnett  down  when  renomi- 
nating time  came  around.  They  wanted  no  honest 
man,  no  incorruptible  jurist,  in  theirs.  He  was  an 
innovation  such  as  Republicans  could  never  tolerate." 

"I  read  about  that,  and  then  I  heard  father  and 
some  of  his  friends  discussing  it  one  evening.  Father 
says  Mr.  Monnett  is  a  damned  fool,  and  so  is  any 
otiier  man  who  attempts  to  fight  so  gigantic  a  monopoly 
as  the  Oil  Trust.    Oh,  I  am  so  ashamed  of  father !" 

"Pelham,  you  are  a  rock  in  a  weary  land!  Meta- 
phor aside,  you  are  refreshing.  Do  you  know  it?" 
cried  Custis,  in  a  voice  athrill  with  admiration.  "It  is 
your  audacity  that  makes  you  so.  Nine  hundred  and 
ninety-nine  striplings  out  of  a  thousand,  were  they  in 
your  stockings,  would  be  parroting  the  plutocratic 
platitudes  of  your  father  as  if  they  had  the  seal  of 
Sinai  upon  them,  while  you,  magnificent  little  revo- 
lutionist, oppose  him  with  all  the  strenuosity  in  you. 
It  takes  courage  of  a  very  superior  order  to  do  that." 

Pelham  pressed  the  hand  of  Custis. 

"What  do  you  think  of  journalism?"  he  asked, 
after  a  while. 

"To  be  editor  of  a  really  great  paper — clean, 
truthful,  progressive ;  a  paper  that  defended  the  liber-  j 
ties,  that  championed  the  rights  of  the  exploited — this 
I  would  love  above  all  things  to  be,  for  the  power  of 
the  press  seems  almost  limitless.  But  there  is  no  paper 
of  the  kind  in  the  land — among  the  daily  press,  I  mean 
— and  such  an  editor  as  I  would  love  to  be  is  nowhere 


i86    REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

wanted.  Men  who  can  lie,  men  who  are  wilHng  to 
sell  themselves,  men  whose  consciences  are  dead — 
these  are  the  ones  wanted  on  newspapers,  to  help 
perpetuate  the  reign  of  plutocracy,  to  arrest,  if  possible, 
the  march  of  evolution.  And  the  masses — the  poor, 
exploited,  disinherited  masses — read  these  wicked 
sheets,  believing  in  them  as  they  believe  in  their  Bibles. 
And  the  consequence  is  they  sit  in  darkness  and 
chains,  blinded  and  bound  by  a  corrupt  and  prostituted 
press.  Sometimes  I  become  so  sick  of  conditions  that 
put  a  premium  on  dishonesty  and  rascality,  that  make 
it  next  to  impossible  for  a  clean,  honest  man  to  make 
his  way  in  the  world,  I  feel  as  if  there  were  nothing 
for  me  to  do  but  bury  myself  in  the  country,  and,  like 
Tolstoy,  pursue  the  plow.  There,  at  least,  one  can 
maintain  his  integrity  as  well  as  a  sort  of  negative 
independence,  so  long  as  he  can  keep  his  home  out  of 
the  grasp  of  the  usurer.  But  Uncle  Pierre  laughs 
at  my  periodical  attacks  of  Tolstoyism,  as  he  calls  it, 
and  says  my  place  is  out  in  the  busy,  struggling,  suffer- 
ing world.  He  thinks  in  the  present  crisis  that  the 
people  need  all  the  brains,  all  the  culture  they  can  rally 
to  the  aid  of  their  cause,  since  capitalism  is  able  to 
corner  or  cow  most  of  the  scholarship  of  the  world." 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

"Hello !" 

"Is  that  one  C.  P.  Christian?" 

"This  is  the  gentleman.  And  what  does  B.  Frank- 
lin Hardie  desire  of  the  said  C.  P.  Christian?" 

"Are  you  going  to  the  show  ?" 

"Well,  I  thought  of  taking  that  hayseed  Hunt- 
ington to  see  the  animals  and  the  unshaved  lady." 

"Kate  and  I  are  going.  Suppose  you  and  Hunt- 
ington step  around  and  take  tea  with  us  and  we'll  all 
trot  along  together." 

"That's  delightfully  kind  of  you,  Bennie,  but " 

"But  you'll  come  all  the  same.  You  wouldn't 
miss  coming  for  the  world  when  I  tell  you  who  are 
at  my  house." 

"Did  Uncle  Pierre  and  Virginia  come  down  to 
the  circus  ?" 

"They  are  guilty  of  that  very  thing,  with  a  train 
load  of  other  show-struck  ruralists." 

"Pelham,  you  scamp!  Do  you  hear  that?  Uncle 
Pierre  is  in  town !"  exclaimed  Custis,  aside  to  Pelham. 

"That's  glorious  news,  Custis." 

"Say,  Ben,  you  are  not  joking?"  said  Custis,  re- 
turning to  the  telephone. 

"It  is  as  true  as  I  am  married.  He  wanted  the 
little  one  to  see  the  circus,  but  I  reckon  he  came 
down  to  see  a  certain  overgrown  kid  as  much  as  to 
bring  Virginia  to  the  show." 

"Are  they  at  the  store?" 

187 


i88         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"No;  they  went  up  home  with  Kate  half  an 
hour  ago." 

"How  is  Uncle  Pierre  looking,  Ben?" 

"Like  a  sixteen-year-old." 

"Seriously,  old  man:    Is  he  looking  well?" 

"More  than  well — fine.  I  shall  find  you  at  the 
Hardie  mansion  when  I  arrive  ?" 

"We'll  be  there,  basking  on  your  plush.  An 
revoir.    Come,  Little  Billee." 

They  seized  their  hats,  and,  leaving  word  that 
they  were  going  out  to  tea,  started  on  a  half-run  for 
the  Hardie  home,  on  Grove  avenue. 

On  the  porch  stood  little  Virginia  Nelson,  who, 
since  her  father's  death,  two  years  before,  had  been 
living  at  Holly  Hill,  the  most  adored  child  in  Virginia. 
She  had  been  looking  eagerly  for  Custis,  and  when  at 
last  he  came  in  sight  she  flew  down  the  steps,  crying: 
"Brother !  Brother !"  And  he  took  her  up  in  his  arms, 
this  dear  child  of  poor  Paul  and  Dorothy  Nelson,  and, 
thinking  of  them  and  how  they  had  loved  him,  he 
kissed  the  little  one  again  and  again,  until  there  was 
no  part  of  the  beautiful  little  face  unkissed. 

"Virginia,  dear,  this  is  Mr.  Huntington,  about 
whom  I  write  so  much  to  Uncle  Pierre.  Can't  you  give 
him  a  kiss?" 

She  leaned  lovingly  toward  Pelham  and  gave 
the  kiss  requested. 

Then  they  ascended  the  porch  steps,  Custis  with 
Virginia  in  his  arms. 

The  door  opened,  and  Dr.  Custis  stepped  out. 
Custis  immediately  put  Virginia  on  her  feet  and  sprang 
to  greet  the  physician. 

"Uncle  Pierre,  this  is  our  Pelham,"  he  said,  as  his 
arm  fell  from  about  Dr.  Custis's  neck. 

"And  this  is  my  other  boy,  is  it  ?"  asked  the  latter. 

"Yes,  your  other  boy,"  answered  Pelham. 

And  for  more  than  a  minute  the  Doctor  held  Pel- 
ham's  hand  in  his,  looking  fondly  into  the  boy's  big 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         189 

eyes  of  blue.  Very  near,  very  dear  to  him  was  this 
son  of  Louise  Pelham's,  this  brother  of  the  httle  chap's. 

The  boys  were  greeted  with  effusive  cordiality 
by  the  pretty,  vivacious  young  woman  who  had  refused 
to  allow  Ben's  freckles  to  stand  in  the  way  of  her  be- 
coming Mrs.  Hardie,  and  after  the  exchange  of  a  few 
pleasantries,  the  lady  disappeared  to  look  after  supper. 

"And  you  are  named  for  your  mother's  family?" 
said  Dr.  Custis,  addressing  Pelham. 

"Yes,  Uncle  Pierre." 

"I  knew  your  mother  when  she  was  a  girl." 

"So  she  has  told  me.  You  and  she  were  school- 
mates. She  never  tires  of  telling  me  what  a  manly, 
lovable  boy  you  were.  Do  you  remember  that  spell- 
ing match — she  told  me  all  about  it — in  which  you 
and  she  were  left  on  the  floor,  and  you  purposely  mis- 
spelled a  word — it  was  chrysanthemum—  so  she  could 
win?" 

Dr.  Custis  laughed  merrily. 

"Will  Louise  never  get  that  idea  out  of  htc  Head? 
She  had  no  reason  whatever  for  her  suspicion." 

"She  had  every  reason,  she  says." 

"You  never  told  me  of  that  interesting  Incident, 
Uncle  Pierre !"  exclaimed  Custis,  affecting  an  ag- 
grieved tone.  "Of  course,  you  were  guilty ;  of  course, 
you  purposely  misspelled  that  word  so  Mrs.  Hunting- 
ton could  corner  the  bay.  It  was  like  you.  You  are 
full  of  chivalric  tricks.    Isn't  he,  Little  Billee  ?" 

"I  imagine  he  is,"  laughed  Pelham,  one  hand  in 
the  Doctor's,  the  other  on  Custis's  shoulder. 

"What  do  you  think,  Uncle  Pierre?  Pelham  is 
going  to  spend  the  Christmas  holidays  with  us,"  said 
Custis,  after  a  silence. 

"That's  delightful  news,"  was  the  physician's  re- 
ply.  "Ben  and  Kate  also  will  be  with  us  then." 

"How  is  everybody  in  the  country,  Uncle  Pierre  ?" 

"Moving  along  in  the  same  old  ruts.     Everybody 


190         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

sent  lots  of  love  to  )^ou,  and  along  with  hers  mammy 
sent  you  a  pound  cake  she  made  yesterday." 

"Bless  her  old  white  heart!  Pelham,  we  won't 
do  a  thing  to  that  cake,  will  we  ?    How  is  mammy  ?" 

"In  prime  condition.  She  feels  your  absence 
keenly,  however,  as  she  always  does.  I  wrote  you  she 
had  gone  back  to  singing  T  Would  Not  Live  Always '? 
That's  her  favorite  hymn,"  aside  to  Pelham,  "when 
Custis  is  away.  She  sings  it  all  the  autumn,  all  the 
winter,  and  all  the  spring.  Virginia,  dear,  where  are 
Brother's  chrysanthemums  ?" 

"Oh,  I  forgot!"  cried  the  little  girl,  springing 
from  Custis's  leg. 

"Are  those  they?"  he  asked,  pointing  to  a  huge 
bunch  of  white  and  yellow  ones  on  the  piano. 

"I  brought  those  to  Mrs.  Hardie.  Yours  are  up- 
stairs." 

And  she  darted  thither,  returning  in  a  second  with 
a  bunch  as  choice  as  Mrs.  Hardie's. 

"Thank  you,  sweetheart,"  kissing  her.  "Lovely, 
aren't  they,  Pelham  ?  We  grow  chrysanthenuims  like 
these  at  Holly  Hill,  don't  we.  Uncle  Pierre?  We  are 
flower-growers,  Custis  and  Christian  are." 

Pie  fastened  a  white  chrysanthemum  on  Pelham's 
lapel,  then  he  adorned  Dr.  Custis  with  another,  him- 
self with  a  third,  and  Ben,  coming  in  at  this  juncture, 
had  to  submit  to  a  like  decoration,  despite  his  protest 
that  he  was  a  "plain  fellow  without  frills  or  flowers." 

"Custis  Christian,  you  are  a  tyrant,"  he  said, 
moving  off  with  his  chrysanthemum.  "Everybody 
must  do  as  you  command  them,  or  there  is  no  living 
,  where  you  are.  I  would  have  kicked  outright  but  for 
fear  of  offending  your  Uncle  Pierre.  Because  he 
submits  to  your  tyrannv,  he  expects  evervbodv  else 
to  do  it." 

"Suwanee  River!  What  is  that?"  cried  Mrs. 
Hardie,  rejoining  her  guests.    "Doctor,  can  you  tell 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         191 

me?  Ctistis,  do  you  know?  Mr.  Huntington,  did  you 
ever  see  anything  like  that  in  New  York?" 

"Why,  Katherine,  don't  you  know  me?  It  is 
your  Bennie  dodging  behind  a  bleached  cabbage.  Cus- 
tis  Christian  put  me  there.  Say,  My  Katydid,  is  supper 
ready  ?" 

"Not  quite,  my  Kentucky  Cardinal,"  she  an- 
swered, pushing  back  one  of  his  clay-colored  locks. 

"We  haven't  much  time,"  looking  at  his  watch. 
"I'm  afraid,  Custis,  we  won't  have  a  chance  to  show 
Huntington  your  unshaved  lady.  We'll  have  to  press 
right  into  the  big  show,  and  when  that's  over  she  and 
the  animals  will  be  on  their  way  to  Petersburg." 

Presently  Ben  skipped  from  the  room.  In  a 
minute  he  skipped  back,  bearing  a  plump,  pretty  boy 
in  his  second  year. 

"Gentlemen  and  bachelors,  this  is  some  compensa- 
tion for  a  man's  loss  of  liberty,"  he  said.  "What  do 
you  think  of  him.  Doctor?" 

"He  is  a  bouncing  boy." 

"He  is  all  right,  if  he  does  inherit  his  dad's  sorrel 
silk.  Just  so  long  as  I  haven't  handed  him  down  my 
freckles,  I  can  stand  the  red  hair  and  call  it  golden. 
But  freckles  are  freckles  the  world  over.  There  is 
no  polite  name  for  them." 

"They'll  show  up  on  him  after  awhile,"  said  Kate. 
"It  isn't  time  yet.  You  never  know  what  color  a 
chicken  is  going  to  be  till  its  feathers  come  out." 

"Yes,"  said  Custis.  "White  and  black  chickens 
alike  grow  into  dominico  pullets  and  roosters.  But, 
Benjamin,  this  has  nothing  to  do  with  freckles.  I  am 
just  airing  my  knowledge  of  poultry.  I  hope,  for  your 
sake,  however,  since  you  are  so  hostile  to  freckles, 
that  your  son  and  heir  will  never  develop  a  case  of 
them.  For  your  comfort,  let  me  add  that  I  have  no 
prejudice  against  freckles.  I  love  you  in  spite  of  them, 
and  so  do  all  of  us,  including  Mrs.  Hardie.  Virginia, 
do  you  know,  dear,"  taking  the  baby  from  his  father's 


192         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

arms  and  showing  him  to  the  Httle  girl,"  that  you 
were  not  as  large  as  this  little  fellow  the  first  time  I 
saw  you?  Can  you  realize  that  you  were  ever  as 
small  ?" 

"And  do  you  know,  Custis,  dear,"  said  Ben,  mock- 
ingly, "that  you  were  no  larger  than  this  little  fellow 
the  first  time  I  saw  you?  Can  you  realize  that  you 
were  ever  as  small  ?  Doctor,  we  know  a  thing  or  two 
of  ancient  history,  don't  we?" 

Here  supper  was  announced,  and  the  bahy  was 
turned  over  to  his  nurse. 

It  was  Virginia's  first  visit  to  the  circus.  Custis 
took  complete  possession  of  the  child,  and  led  the  way, 
with  her  in  his  arms,  through  the  menagerie,  showing 
her  all  the  animals,  birds,  reptiles  and  human  freaks. 

"Monkeys  are  so  funny,  I  think,"  she  said.  "Don't 
you  think  so,  Brother?" 

"The  funniest  things  in  the  world,  Virginia." 

"They  don't  look  happy,  though.  They  look  to  me 
as  if  they  were  in  pain." 

"That's  because  their  faces  hurt  them." 

"What  do  you  reckon  makes  their  faces  hurt 
them  ?    Toothache  ?" 

"No,  because  they  are  so  ugly." 

The  grand  entree  was  over,  and  the  ringmaster 
was  introducing  to  the  audience  "little  fourteen-year- 
old  Charlie  Dale,  the  champion  boy  bare-back  rider  of 
the  world." 

And  just  as  our  party  seated  themselves  in  the 
first  row  of  seats  a  white  horse  dashed  into  the  ring, 
and  following  him  came  a  shapely  youngster  in  pink 
tights.  With  a  salute  to  the  multitude,  he  sprang  upon 
the  animal  and  flew  around  the  ring,  doing  marvelous 
things,  which  evoked  tremendous  applause.  But  others 
came  after  him,  doing  things  as  marvelous,  and  some 
more  marvelous,  and  Charlie  and  his  wonderful  feats 
were  forgotten  by  the  fickle  spectators.    It  was  not 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         193 

the  boy's  way,  however,  to  let  himself  drop  so  quickly 
out  of  sight,  for  before  the  performance  was  half  over 
he  was  seen  moving  among  the  crowd  selling  his  pho- 
tograph, like  the  enterprising  prodigy  he  was. 

"What  is  your  price,  sonny?"  asked  Ben  Hardie, 
as  the  boy  paused  before  him  and  Kate. 

"One  dime,  sir,"  replied  the  lad,  his  eyes  fixed 
intently  on  Dr.  Custis. 

"Hello,  Uncle  Pierre !"  he  cried,  absently  pocket- 
ing the  dime  that  Ben  had  given  him,  and  springing 
tov\^ard  the  physician,  his  face  aglow  with  gladness. 

"You  have  tlie  advantage  of  me,  my  boy,"  replied 
Dr.  Custis,  but  he  took  the  boy's  hand  and  pressed  it, 
he  loved  all  youth  so. 

"Aren't  you  Dr.  Custis?" 

"I  am  Dr.  Custis." 

"I  thought  so." 

And  the  young  equestrian  was  about  to  move 
away,  but  the  physician  detained  him. 

"Now,  tell  me  who  you  are.  Your  real  name  is 
not  Charlie  Dale  ?" 

"Don't  you  remember  Carroll  Crane,  who  came  to 
see  you  one  time  with  Aunt  Bab  and  her  push?" 

"Certainly  I  do !  My  dear  little  fellow !  How  are 
you  ?" 

The  Doctor  drew  the  boy  to  him,  placing  him  on 
his  knee,  while  Carroll,  unused  in  years  to  such  tender- 
ness, impulsively  flung  his  arm  about  the  physician's 
neck. 

"That  was  a  fine  time  I  had  at  your  house,  Uncle 
Pierre.  I  often  think  of  you  and  Custis  and  of  Uncle 
Remus  and  Brer  Rabbit.  Don't  you  know  how  you 
and  Custis  would  read  about  'em  to  Phyllis  and  me?" 

"Yes,  yes,  son.  My  poor  little  boy!"  stroking  his 
hair.  "How  is  it  that  you  are  running  around  the 
country  with  a  circus?" 

"I  had  to  do  something.  My  old  man  he  went 
and  croaked " 


194         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"Croaked?" 

"He  died,  I  mean." 

"Yes?    And  your  mother?" 

"She  got  stuck  on  some  drunken  slob  and  he  got 
stuck  on  the  dough  that  my  old  man  had  left  her  and 
the  first  thing  I  knowed  they  had  combined  their 
crockery." 

"Combined  their  crockery?" 

"They  got  married,   I  mean." 

"You  were  opposed  to  the  marriage,  then?" 

"I  wouldn't  had  no  kick  coming  Jong  as  he 
treated  me  on  the  square,  but  he  was  a  damned 
brute.    He  beat  me  so " 

"Beat  you,  son?    He  zvas  a  damned  brute  then." 

And  he  hugged  the  boy,  he  felt  so  sorry  for  him, 
cruelty  to  youth  hurt  him  so. 

"Uncle  Pierre?" 

"Well,  Carroll?" 

"Why  ain't  all  men  like  you?  I've  laid  wake  of 
nights  and  wished  they  was." 

"And  he  beat  you  so,  your  stepfather  did,  that 
you  ran  away,  Carroll?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"And  don't  your  mother  know  where  you  are?" 

"No,  sir,  and  she  don't  give  a  damn." 

"You  can't  make  me  beheve  that,  my  boy." 

"It's  so  all  righty.  She  got  so  stuck  on  the  slob 
she  married  she  thought  everything  he  done  was  O.  K. 
Say,  Rutherford,  he  got  it  in  the  neck,  didn't  he,  for 
that  little  private  vaudeville  of  his?" 

"That  was  a  dci)lc)rable  allair,  Carroll." 

"They  hvmg  'Rclius,  didn't  they?" 

"He  was  sentenced  to  be  hanged,  but  the  Supreme 
Court,  to  which  we  appealed  his  case,  granted  him  a 
new  trial,  and  the  second  jury  gave  him  eighteen  years 
in  the  penitentiary." 

"Do  you  ever  hear  from  Phyllis?" 

"About  once  a  month.     She  was  married  last 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH        195 

spring  to  a  fine  young  westerner.  They  spent  a  fort- 
night of  their  honeymoon  at  Holly  Hill,  and  I  took 
quite  a  fancy  to  her  husband." 

"That's  good.  Say,  how's  Custis,  Uncle  Pierre? 
He's  a  grown-up  man  now,  ain't  he?" 

"Yes.  There  he  is,  sitting  between  that  lady  and 
little  girl." 

"Is  that  Custis  ?  Gosh !  But  ain't  he  a  big  fellow  ?" 

"He  was  a  big  boy,  Carroll." 

"Yes,  I  know.  I  didn't  know  that  was  Custis,  and 
yet  I  thought  there  was  something  familiar  about  him. 
Why,  I  sold  him  one  of  my  photographs.  The  little 
girl  wanted  it.  You  guess  he'd  be  glad  to  see  me, 
Uncle  Pierre?" 

"Try  him,  Carroll,  and  if  you  don't  get  the  heartiest 
hug  you  have  had  in  years,  I'll  never  venture  another 
prediction." 

The  boy  glided  past  the  Hardies,  and,  pausing 
before  Custis  with  a  sort  of  awe,  modestly  made  him- 
self known,  and  the  hearty  hug  that  the  Doctor  had 
promised  followed  quickly,  Custis's  delight  at  seeing 
the  lad  equaling  the  Doctor's. 

And  while  the  two  talked,  leaving  Virginia  to 
herself  for  the  while,  Dr.  Custis  told  Pelham  and  the 
Hardies  how  he  had  come  to  know  the  young  circus 
rider. 

"Weren't  you  glad  to  see  the  little  fellow, 
Uncle  Pierre?"  was  Custis's  first  remark  when  the 
performance  was  over. 

"I  was,  indeed.  But  it  hurts  me  to  see  a  child 
like  that  roaming  about  with  a  circus." 

"Didn't  he  have  on  pretty  pink  pants.  Uncle 
Pierre?"  observed  Virginia. 

"I  hate  to  spoil  your  alliterative.  Miss  Nelson," 
said  Custis,  "but  the  word  is  trousers,  not  pants.  Uncle 
Pierre,  did  you  hear  this  young  lady  ?  Are  you  grow- 
ing lax  in  your  methods  of  bringing  up  children  ?  You 
always  corrected  me  whenever  I  said  pants  or  breeches. 
Now,  see  to  it  that  you  correct  her,  too." 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Custis?  You  are  hurt;  I 
know  it  by  that  bruised  look  that  your  eyes  wear.  Tell 
me,  big  brother,  who  could  be  fiend  enough  to  wound 
you — you  who  could  not  wound  anything  that 
breathes  ?" 

"And  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it,  little 
boy?    Challenge  the  offender?" 

"No;  but  there  is  no  depth  to  my  contempt  for 
one  who  could  hurt  you.  It  argues  total  depravity, 
if  anything  does." 

"But  how  do  you  know  I  am  hurt?" 

"Your  eyes,  I  insist,  give  it  away.  I  know  what 
has  happened.  You  were  easily  the  lion  of  the  even- 
ing, and  some  mean-spirited  individual,  moved  by 
envy,  said  something  to  cut  you.    Am  I  not  right?" 

They  had  removed  their  shoes  and  sat  with  legs 
stretched  before  a  vigorous  log  fire,  while  the  wind 
wailed  around  the  old  country  house  as  though  it  were 
a  midwinter's  night.  They  were  in  Hanover  County, 
having  come  from  the  city  to  attend  a  Hallowe'en  ball. 
The  ball  was  over,  and  the  guests  had  all  departed 
save  Custis  and  Pelham,  who,  not  of  the  neighborhood, 
had  been  prevailed  upon  to  spend  the  night  with  their 
host  and  hostess. 

"I  have  something  to  tell  you,  Pelham,"  saitl 
Custis.  "I  ought  to  have  told  you  ere  this,  perhaps, 
and  with  the  facts  before  you,  let  you  judge  for  your- 
self whether  or  not  I  am  a  fit  companion  for  you.    But 

196 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH        197 

I  thought  it  didn't  matter  to  you ;  that,  being  a  So- 
ciaHst,  you  looked  at  things  differently  from  the  false, 
unjust  way  in  which  conventionalism  looks  at  them. 
Pelham,"  he  continued,  "you  are  right.  I  was  hurt 
to-night  and  to  the  core  of  me.     I  feel  it  even  now." 

"I  know  you  do.    You  can't  deceive  me." 

"Pelham,  I  am  going  to  tell  you  all  about  myself, 
tell  you  what  I  am." 

"You  don't  have  to  do  that,  Custis.  I  know  what 
you  are.  You  are  the  embodiment  of  manliness ;  you 
are  purity  incarnated." 

Custis  smiled,  giving  the  boy  a  caress. 

"Granted  that  be  true,  Pelham,"  he  said,  "it  counts 
for  nothing  with  some  people,  and  people,  too,  who 
have  the  most  to  say  about  morality,  who  are  the 
loudest  in  their  religious  professions.  You  were  intro- 
duced to  a  Mrs.  Atherton  to-night,  weren't  you?" 

"That  woman  in  the  black  silk  cut  after  the  fash- 
ion of  twenty  years  ago?  That  woman  who  was  all 
the  time  moving  about  with  the  purr  and  the  tread  of 
a  cat?" 

"That  describes  her  perfectly." 

"And  it  was  she,  Custis,  who  hurt  you?" 

"It  was  she,  Pelham.  You  saw  me  talking  with 
Miss  Beverley  and  Miss  Ruffin  just  before  we  wound 
up  with  the  Virginia  Reel?" 

"Yes,  and  I  hungered  to  be  with  you,  but  Colonel 
Mason  thought  he  was  entertaining  me  with  an  account 
of  his  experiences  at  the  battle  of  Cold  Harbor,  and  I 
was  not  ill-bred  enough  to  undeceive  the  old  gentle- 
man. By  the  way,  wasn't  she,  this  Mrs.  Atherton, 
sitting  behind  you  while  you  were  talking  with  Miss 
Rufifin  and  Miss  Beverley?" 

"Yes ;  she  was  gossiping  with  another  antique  in 
petticoats.  They  had  hardly  seated  themselves  behind 
us  when  Mrs.  Atherton  said  in  a  voice  intended  for 
my  ears:  T  tell  you,  Sue,  times  have  changed  since 
we  were  girls.    A  young  man  in  those  days  had  to  show 


198         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

not  only  who  his  parents  were,  but  also  who  his  parents' 
parents  were,  and  so  on  for  generations  back.  But 
in  these  days  he  doesn't  even  have  to  tell  who  his 
parents  are.  All  that  is  required  of  a  young  man  now- 
adays is  a  handsome  face,  good  clothes  and  the  trick 
of  appearing  to  advantage  in  company.  The  result 
is  any  young  scrub,  no  matter  how  obscure  or  shameful 
his  origin,  can  push  his  way  to  the  front.  No,  Sue, 
it  wasn't  that  way  when  we  were  young.  The  young 
men  who  paid  us  attentions  had  pedigrees,  they  did. 
They  had  to  produce  their  credentials  before  they  could 
get  into  good  society.'  " 

"The  old  wasp !"  cried  Pelham,  hotly.  "But  how 
do  you  know  that  all  that  Noah's  Ark  rot  was  aimed 
at  you,  Custis?" 

"At  me,  and  nobody  else,  were  those  antede- 
luvian  reflections  fired,  Pelham." 

Custis  smiled  grimly ;  then  his  face  took  on  an 
ineffable  sadness. 

"Pelham,  do  you  know  why  she  talked  like  that?" 

"No,  Custis." 

"It  was  because  I  am  denied  my  father's  name ; 
because  I  bear  my  mother's.  Do  you  know,  little  boy, 
that  I  was  born  out  of  wedlock?" 

"No !    No,  Custis !" 

"What?  Do  you  shrink  from  me — you  who  love 
me  so?" 

"No !  No !  My  God !  No !  You  misunderstand 
me,  Custis!  It  was  because  of  my  love  for  you,  it  was 
because  of  the  pain  your  own  words  gave  you,  that  I 
cried  out  so.  I  don't  care  how  you  were  born,  in  or 
out  of  wedlock.  It  is  enough  for  me  to  know  that 
when  you  were  born  the  sweetest  spirit  I  ever  knew 
took  on  the  burden  of  flesh." 

"You  love  me,  then?  It  makes  no  dift'crcnce  to 
you,  this  that  I  have  told  you?" 

"It  makes  me  love  you  more,  if  such  a  thing  bo 
possible.    You  may  not  believe  it,  Custis,  but  I  woukl 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         199 

rather   that   my    father   should   have   denietl   me   his 
name  than  that  yours  should  have  denied  you  his." 

■  "I  believe  it,  little  brother.  You  are  a  noble  boy — 
the  noblest  boy  I  ever  knew.  Jesus  would  have  loved 
you,  Pelham — loved  you  more  than  he  loved  John. 
You  refresh  me,  you  invigorate  me,  little  brother!" 

"Then  the  sting  of  that  old  wasp  is  gone?" 

"Yes,  your  love,  your  loyalty  have  healed  it.  And 
you  would  rather  that  your  father  should  have  denied 
you  his  name  than  that  my  father  should  have  denied 
me  his?" 

And  Custis  looked  full  into  Pelham's  eyes,  a 
strange,  glad  light  in  his  own  which  it  was  not  given 
Pelham  to  interpret. 

"God  bless  you  for  those  words,  but  more  for  the 
love  that  inspired  them.  Still  I  v/ould  not  have  things 
other  than  they  are.  Except  the  sorrow  that  was  my 
mother's  portion  before  and  for  a  time  after  my  birth, 
Destiny  could  not  have  shaped  the  way  I  have  come 
more  to  my  desire,  my  path  could  not  have  wound 
through  pleasanter  places.  And  even  for  her,  my  poor 
little  mother,  it  all  came  right ;  the  rough  way  was 
made  smooth  for  her  long  before  she  died.  Yes,  in 
looking  back  over  the  years,  I  am  persuaded  that 
everything  has  happened  for  the  best.  I  would  not 
have  had  it  otherwise.  If  my  father  repudiated  me, 
Uncle  Pierre  took  me  up,  and  his  love  has  compensated 
a  hundred  fold.  I  cannot  conceive  of  life  apart  from 
him.  I  shudder  to  think  of  what  I  might  have  been 
without  his  hand  to  guide  me." 

A  log,  burned  in  tvv^o  parts,  fell  from  the  andirons 
and  rolled  out  on  the  hearth.  Custis  seized  the  tongs 
and  laid  the  pieces  of  blazing  wood  back  in  the  heart  of 
the  fire. 

"Did  you  ever  think,  Pelham,  of  what  a  terrible 
crime  it  is  to  wrong  the  girl  who  loves  you — some 
sweet,  flower-like  thing  who  believes  in  you  as  she 
believes  in  God?" 


200        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"There  could  be  no  crime  so  black,"  replied  Pel- 
ham,  shudderingly. 

"Murder,  arson,  even  usury  are  not  as  heinous," 
continued  Custis.  "There  is  only  one  other  crime  that 
can  approach  it — the  crime  for  which  negroes  are 
lynched  in  the  South." 

"And  in  Ohio,  New  Jersey,  Indiana,  Illinois, 
Kansas,  Colorado,  and  other  states  not  southern," 
added  the  New  York  boy  of  Dixie  strain ;  "a  fact 
which  our  hypocritical  Republican  sheets  con- 
veniently overlook  in  their  campaign  against  south- 
ern lawlessness." 

Custis  smiled  absently. 

"But  rape,  revolting  as  it  is,  is  the  act  of  a  beast," 
he  said.  "Seduction  is  the  act  of  a  villain.  The  vil- 
lain thinks.  The  beast  does  not.  There  is  the  differ- 
ence. Then,  too,  the  victim  of  the  brute  is  sure  of  the 
undivided  sympathy  of  the  community,  as  she  should 
be,  and  a  mob  arises  and  slays  the  beast.  But  the  vic- 
tim of  the  villain  gets  little  or  no  sympathy.  The  mob, 
if  inclined  to  action  at  all.  is  more  likely  to  treat  the 
woman  to  tar  and  feathers  than  harm  her  betrayer." 

A  cricket  went  hurrying  across  the  hearth  and 
when  it  had  disappeared  Custis  said : 

"My  mother  was  one  of  those  sweet,  flower-like 
women  I  had  in  mind  when  I  spoke,  I  thought  her 
beautiful — beautiful  in  every  way.  I  will  show  you 
her  picture.  It  will  give  you  something  of  an  idea, 
at  least,  of  how  she  looked." 

Reverently  he  placed  the  photograph  of  Dorothy 
Nelson  into  Pelham's  hand,  and  as  reverently  Pel- 
ham  took  it  up  and  looked  at  it.  It  was  the  likeness 
of  Custis's  mother ;  this  alone  made  it  sacred  in  Pol- 
ham's  eyes. 

"She  Vv'as  beautiful,"  he  observed,  genuinely.  "And 
she  was  so  girlish,  too!  Why,  Custis,  Virginia  looks 
like  your  mother !" 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         201 

"You  v/ill  not  wonder  at  it  when  I  have  told  you 
she  was  Virginia's  mother." 

"Really?    Then  Virginia  is,  in  truth,  your  sister?" 

"Virginia  is  my  sister.    I  have  a  brother,  too." 

"This  is  interesting.  Where  is  your  brother, 
Custis?  Or  am  I  presumptuous  in  asking  the  ques- 
tion?" 

"Not  at  all.  I  don't  mind  telling  you  about  the 
youngster.  Where  is  he,  you  ask?  At  present  he  is 
in  Hanover  County." 

"Why,  this  is  Hanover  County  we  are  in  to- 
night!" 

"There  is  where  we  are." 

"How  old  is  your  brother,  Custis  ?" 

"Eighteen  years  of  age." 

"Just  my  age!" 

"Just  your  age." 

"Is  he  like  you,  Custis?" 

"I  am  a  bigger  fellow  than  he,  but  we  have  eyes 
and  hair  alike,  and  we  are  said  to  have  mouths  like 
each  other." 

"Why,  Mrs.  Hardie  remarked  that  of  our  mouths, 
didn't  she?" 

"Did  she?" 

"Certainly.  Don't  you  remember?  And  I  have 
loved  her  ever  since.  And  we  have  hair  and  eyes  alike, 
haven't  we  ?  What  kind  of  a  boy  is  your  brother,  Cus- 
tis?   Do  you  love  him  very  much?" 

"I  love  him  more  than  my  own  life.  But  how  can 
I  help  it  when  he  is  the  most  lovable,  the  most  unselfish 
boy  in  the  world  ?" 

"You  don't  mean  that,  Custis  ?" 

"I  certainly  do." 

Pelham  gave  a  heavy  sigh,  oppressed  by  a  feeling 
that  was  new  to  him.    Could  it  be  jealousy? 

He  returned  the  photograph  to  Custis,  who  put 
it  carefully  away.  For  a  minute  or  more  they  sat 
watching  the  flames.    Then  Custis  turned  to  Pelham, 


202         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

and,  flinging  one  leg  over  the  other,  proceeded  to  tell 
him  the  story  of  his  mother's  wrongs.  And  Pelham 
gave  sympathetic  ear,  moved  as  deeply  as  if  it  had  been 
his  own  mother  betrayed  and  he  the  child  robbed  of 
his  heritage. 

"I  can  understand  why  you  worship  Uncle  Pierre 
as  you  do,"  he  said.  "Knowing  him,  I  could  never  be 
an  agnostic,  he  mirrors  God  so  clearly." 

"Yes,  he  reflects  all  the  attributes  of  a  just  and 
loving  deity  such  as  our  spirits  cry  out  after.  He  is 
truly  a  son  of  God  by  right  of  his  Godlikeness." 

"And  Mr.  Nelson — little  Virginia's  father — was  a 
noble  man,  too,  wasn't  he?" 

"He  was  another  of  God's  sons — he  is,  I  mean, 
for  death  to  such  as  he  is  but  the  door  opening  into  life 
more  abundant,  not  annihilation.  His  memory  will 
always  be  fragrant  to  me.  Why  not?  Wasn't  it  lie  who 
rescued  my  mother  from  a  life  of  degradation,  who 
brought  her  peace  and  happiness,  who  made  her  last 
years  so  beautiful  with  his  tenderness  and  love?  He 
loved  me,  too,  as  he  loved  his  own  little  Virginia.  I 
was  with  him  in  his  last  days.  He  had  sent  for  me. 
He  died  in  my  arms,  holding  Virginia's  hand.  It  was 
the  way  he  wanted  to  go,  he  said,  surrounded  by  his 
two  children.  It  was  a  great  grief  to  him  because  he 
had  nothing  to  leave  me  but  a  few  trinkets  of  my 
mother — her  rings  and  the  like.  'Son,'  he  said,  'it  (s 
all  I  have,  this  old  Georgia  plantation  left  me  by  my 
grandfather,  and  it  is  my  duty  to  leave  it  to  our  little 
Virginia,  she  being  a  girl  and  less  able  to  bulTet  the 
world's  cruelty  than  you,  Vvdio  are  a  man  and  so  strong. 
But,  for  all  that,  I  wish  I  had  something  to  leave  you.' 
I  assured  him  that  if  he  had  twenty  plantations  I  would 
not  take  one  of  them  from  my  little  sister.  Still  he 
was  not  satisfied.  'You  know  I  have  always  loved 
you  as  if  you  were  my  own  boy,  loved  you  from  the 
moment  I  first  saw  you  lying  in  your  crib  in  that 
damnable   brothel.     It   was   your   innocence,   your 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         203 

helplessness,  as  much  as  your  mother's  wrongs,  your 
mother's  helplessness,  that  quickened  my  manhood 
and  turned  me  to  whiter  living.'  " 

"And  the  man  from  whose  loins  you  sprang, 
whose  blood  filled  your  veins,  went  on  his  way,  ignor- 
ing your  existence,  while  these  two  men,  Pierre  Custis 
and  Paul  Nelson,  loved  you  as  few  fathers  love  their 
sons?"  said  Pelhani,  indignantly.  "And  your  mother 
never  disclosed  the  name  of  the  scoundrel  who  begot 
you?" 

"No,  but  Uncle  Pierre  has  since  done  so.  He  did 
it  only  two  weeks  ago,  however — the  time  he  was 
down  to  the  circus.  Pelham,  do  you  know  who  my 
father  is?" 

"I  have  no  idea,  Custis.  Yet  you  speak  as  if  I 
knew  him?    Do  I?" 

"Yes.  The  man  who  did  all  this  evil  is  Frederick 
Huntington,  your  father — and  mine !" 

"Custis!"  cried  Pelham,  sharply,  startled  into  the 
attitude  of  one  shot. 

"Custis !"  he  again  exclaimed.  "My  father,  Fred- 
erick Huntington,  and  the  scoundrel  you  have  been 
telling  me  about — are  the  same  man?" 

"I  have  Uncle  Pierre's  word  for  it,"  was  the  calm 
answer.    "And  there  is  no  appeal  from  that." 

"I  will  never,  never  speak  to  him  again !  I  wish 
to  see  his  face  no  more,  I  despise  him  so  thoroughly  I 
The  black-hearted  scoundrel !" 

"Be  cool,  little  boy!  Such  feelings  do  you  great 
credit.  They  show  you  to  be  a  clean,  justice-loving 
boy  with  a  terrific  contempt  for  all  that  is  base.  But 
you  are  a  little  overheated  now.  Of  course,  you  will 
speak  to  your  father  again.  You  will  not  disown  him 
for  my  sake." 

"I  will !  I  will !  You  can't  keep  me  from  it 
either !" 

"Oh,  yes,  I  will  I" 


204         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"You  will  not,  I  say !  He  is  an  unmitigated 
scoundrel,  Frederick  Huntington  is!" 

"I  am  inclined  to  the  same  opinion,  Pelliam.  But 
listen,  little  boy,  to  what  I  have  to  say.  H  she  could 
forgive  him,  if  I  can  forgive  him — the  ones  he  wronged 
so  grievously — you,  his  lawful  son  and  his  heir,  you  to 
whom  he  has  given  his  honored  name,  will  not  with- 
hold your  forgiveness?" 

"Custis,  for  heaven's  sake,  don't  talk  like  that! 
You  speak  as  if  a  gulf  were  fixed  between  us." 

"There  is,  Pelham." 

"There  is  not,  Custis !  I  will  not  have  it  so.  No 
gulf,  if  it  were  as  wide  as  the  universe,  could  ever 
divide  me  from  you.  I  would  rather  share  your  name- 
lessness  than  bear  the  name  of  which  you  have  been 
robbed.  Would  to  God  I  had  been  born  out  of  wed- 
lock with  you !  The  fact  that  I  was  not  makes  me 
loathe  myself.  I  can  enjoy  nothing,  I  want  nothing 
that  3'ou  are  denied.  Flonored  name !  To  the  devil 
with  it!  It  smells  of  the  pit!  It  reeks  with  the  infamy 
of  hell !  But,  Custis !  Custis !"  his  indignation  in  a 
flash  giving  way  to  a  joy  that  irradiated  all  his  face. 
"This  makes  us  brothers,  doesn't  it?" 

"That's  what  it  does." 

"Oh,  Custis !  Custis !  My  brother !  My  brother ! 
I  am  he,  the  boy  vou  were  talking  about?" 

"What  boy?" 

"Why,  that  brother  in  Hanover?" 

"You  are  he." 

"And  I  was  getting  jealous  of  myself.  Oh,  you 
big  kid !" 

And  Pelham's  arms  met  in  a  wild,  sutl'ocating 
clasp  around  Custis's  neck. 

"My  own  brother!     Mine!     Mine!     Mine!" 

"But  not  yours  to  choke  to  death  !  Pelham  !  Pel- 
ham  !  You  are  S(|ueezing  the  life  out  of  me.  1  can't 
— get — my — breath !    You  little  scamp !" 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         205 

Pelham  uncoiled  his  arms,  laughing  gleefully 
as  a  little  child. 

"You  are  a  naughty  boy,"  said  Custis,  rising,  "to 
treat  your  brother  so  cruelly.  Come,  let  us  go  to  bed 
now.  It  is  half  past  3  o'clock.  We  are  not  used  to  dis- 
sipating like  this." 

"I  don't  want  to  go  to  bed,"  pouted  Pelham.  "I 
couldn't  sleep  if  I  went,  I  am  so  confoundedly  happy. 
Let's  do  a  few  wrestling  stunts." 

"A  few  slumbering  stunts  will  be  better  for  us  at 
this  hour,"  returned  Custis,  as,  with  a  yawn,  he  began 
to  undress.  "You  may  tell  your  sister  of  this,  Pelham. 
I  want  her  to  know  all  about  me." 

"And  mother?    May  I  tell  her,  too?" 

"Not  yet.  But  I  want  you  to  tell  Virginia.  Do 
you  think  it  will  make  any  difference  to  her?" 

"No  more  than  it  does  to  me.  She  will  be  de- 
lighted, I  know,  to  learn  we  are  brothers.  She  will 
feel  as  if  you  were  a  sort  of  brother  of  hers,  too." 

"I  hope  she  will  have  no  such  feeling." 

"Why  not?" 

"Oh,  I  am  glad  she  is  your  sister,  but  I  am  glad 
she  isn't  mine." 

"I  understand.     You  wholesome  rogue!" 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

"I  have  just  heard  from  home,  and  Uncle  Pierre 
writes  that  they  are  making  big  preparations  for  us. 
Mammy,  however,  is  causing  him  anxiety." 

"She  isn't  ill?" 

"Not  physically.  It  is  her  spiritual  health  that 
gives  him  concern.  He  is  afraid  she  has  fallen  from 
grace.  She  no  longer  sings  'I  Would  Not  Live  Always,' 
but  is  spinning  off  ragtime  melodies  by  the  yard,  'A  Hot 
Time'  being  in  high  favor  just  now.    Think  of  it !" 

"Really,  we  don't  know  who  the  Lord's  anointed 
are  in  these  days." 

"Indeed,  we  don't.  There  seems  to  be  no  distin- 
guishing mark  between  the  sheep  and  the  goats.  Say, 
little  brother,  there  is  a  possibility — nay,  a  probability 
of  our  taking  'Relius  home  with  us  to-morrow." 

"Good!" 

"Yes.  Uncle  Pierre,  you  know,  has  been  hard 
at  work  for  weeks  scouring  the  county  for  signatures 
asking  the  Governor  to  pardon  'Relius.  He  has  se- 
cured over  six  hundred,  all  bona  fide  white  citizens, 
too ;  many  of  them  our  most  substantial  men,  as 
our  property-worshipping  conservative  friends  call  the 
land-owning  gentry.  Among  the  signatures  are  three 
members  of  tlie  first  jury  and  eight  of  the  second.  Be- 
sides, there  are  letters  from  the  judges  of  the  County 
and  District  Courts,  asking  that  mercy  be  shown." 

Here  Custis  handed  IVlham  the  long,  bulky  en- 
velope containing  the  petition  and  letters  nicatiuncd. 

ao6 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         207 

"They  ought  certainly  to  carry  weight,"  observed 
Pelham,  as  he  returned  the  papers  to  Custis  after  an 
inspection  of  their  contents. 

''Well,  let  us  see  if  they  will.  Now  for  His  Excel- 
lency's den!  There  is  a  car  coming.  If  we  are  quick 
we  can  catch  it." 

Half  an  hour  later  they  were  ushered  into  the 
presence  of  the  Governor. 

"Well,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  pleasantly,  "what  can 
I  do  for  you  ?" 

"I  would  like  to  have  you  kindly  look  over  these 
papers,  Governor,  and  if  you  can  square  it  with  your 
sense  of  justice  grant  the  prayer  of  the  petitioners," 
said  Custis,  drawing  forth  the  documents  and  placing 
them  in  the  hands  of  Virginia's  Executive. 

The  Governor  began  by  reading  a  letter  which 
Dr.  Custis  had  written  him  in  behalf  of  the  prisoner. 

"Yes,  I  remember  the  case  well,  and  the  interest 
it  excited  all  over  the  State.  This  young  mulatto, 
Perkins,  killed  Dr.  Custis's  nephew?" 

Custis  bowed  assent,  and  His  Excellency  opened 
the  letter  from  the  judge  of  the  United  States  District 
Court  and  read  it  through. 

"Yes,  yes,"  was  his  monosyllabic  comment, 
which  augured  hope. 

Next  he  read  the  appeal  for  clemency  from  the 
judge  of  the  County  Court.  Then  he  looked  over  the 
long  list  of  names  praying  for  Aurelius's  pardon,  and 
as  he  refolded  the  paper  he  exclaimed : 

_  "Poor  fellow!  After  all,  he  did  only  what  most 
white  men  in  his  place  would  have  done.  Mr.  Waller," 
calling  to  his  private  secretary,  in  the  next  room,  and 
as  that  young  man  made  his  appearance,  he  continued : 
"Please  fill  out  a  pardon  for  Aurelius  Perkins,  sen- 
tenced to  eighteen  years  in  the  penitentiary  for  the 
murder  of  Rutherford  Demarest." 

Mr.  Waller  bowed  and  withdrew.  After  the  lapse 
of  several  minutes  he  returned  and  handed  the  Gov- 


2o8         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

ernor  a  paper,  to  which  the  latter  affixed  his  signature. 

"Here  you  are,  my  son,"  he  said,  handing  Custis 
the  document  which  carried  the  power  to  swing  open 
the  ponderous  prison  gates  to  poor  Aurehus. 

"Thank  you,  Governor,  thank  you,"  returned 
Custis,  fecHngly.    "We  shah  ahvays  love  you  for  this." 

His  Excellency  smiled,  almost  affectionately.  He 
walked  between  Custis  and  Pelham  to  the  door,  a  hand 
on  the  shoulder  of  each  boy. 

"Well,  we  are  armed  with  the  autograph  that  puts 
an  end  to  our  'Relius's  helping  to  pile  up  dividends 
for  the  Davis  Shoe  Company  of  ^Massachusetts,"  re- 
marked Custis,  as  he  and  Pelham  descended  the  steps 
of  the  Capitol.  "Now,  let  us  step  down  to  the  Western 
Union  office  and  wire  the  joyful  news  up  the  James." 

The  sunlight  was  warm  that  Christmas  Eve,  and 
the  breeze  carried  the  caressing  softness  of  violet  time. 
And  because  of  it.  Dr.  Custis  could  not  help  thinking 
of  another  Christmas  Eve  six  years  ago — a  day  of 
which  this  was  a  perfect  copy.  What  glad  hearts  had 
he  and  Custis  taken  with  them  to  Georgia !  But  what 
sad  hearts  had  they  brought  back  with  them  to  \'ir- 
ginia !  Poor  little  Dorothy  !  Poor  Paul !  How  he  had 
loved  them !  How  they  had  loved  him,  had  these 
dear  souls  from  whom  the  flesh  with  its  limitations  had 
fallen !  And  the  memory  of  them  as  fresh  to  him  as 
when  they  had  gone  away,  he  put  his  arm  around 
their  little  one,  who  sat  beside  him  in  the  carriage, 
and  drew  her  up  tenderly  to  him. 

Opposite  to  them  sat  Cindie  in  her  best  Shiloh 
attire. 

"Mammy,  you  stray  from  home  so  seldom,  they 
will  all  be  surprised  to  see  you  at  Elk  Bluff,"  said  the 
physician. 

"Oh,  I  knows  I  gwine  be  a  bigger  show  dan  'Re- 
lius  hisscf  to  dcm  depo'  niggers,"  was  the  response. 

Behind  the  carriage  came  the  buggy,  driven  by 


i 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH        209 

little  Garfield  Perkins,  Aurelius's  son,  now  a  lad  of 
seven.  His  great-grandmother  had  put  on  him  his 
best  clothes,  as  she  had  put  on  hers,  in  honor  of  his 
father's  home-coming. 

Following  the  buggy  rumbled  the  big  farm  wagon 
to  carry  the  baggage  of  the  travelers  and  those  whom 
the  carriage  and  buggy  could  not  accommodate. 

The  news  of  Aurelius's  pardon,  wired  to  Elk 
Bluff  the  night  before,  had  traveled  with  amazing 
swiftness  over  the  southern  half  of  the  county,  and 
the  result  was  a  hundred  or  more  of  his  race,  to  say 
nothing  of  a  respectable  minority  of  whites,  had  gath- 
ered about  the  station  to  meet  the  12:30  train  from 
Richmond.  Antioch,  Hoecake,  Custisville,  Haddon's 
Store,  Perkins'  Precinct,  Persimmon  Ridge,  Wildrose 
Creek,  Ground  Squirrel  Meeting-PIouse,  Shiloh,  Mount 
Pisgah,  Sassafras  Forks,  Maiden's  Leap,  and  even  as 
far  away  as  the  courthouse — all  had  two  or  more  rep- 
resentatives in  the  throng.  And  every  shade  of  black, 
brown  and  yellow  skin  was  in  evidence ;  all  the  sombre 
tints  from  licorice  black  to  calycanthus  brown,  and  all 
the  lighter  tints  from  calycanthus  brown  to  sweet  pota- 
to buff. 

Cindie  produced  even  a  greater  sensation  than  she 
had  anticipated.  All  eyes  were  turned  toward  her  as 
the  Doctor  assisted  her  out  of  the  carriage.  She  had 
just  discarded  her  mourning  habiliments  for  her  be- 
loved Reuben,  three  years  deceased,  and  looked  every 
inch  the  "swell  nigger"  that  she  was,  in  a  black  Hen- 
rietta skirt  and  velvet  bonnet,  adorned  with  a  big 
bunch  of  red  trumpet  flowers,  or  "cow-itch  blooms," 
as  she  insisted  they  were. 

"I  is  jes'  drippin'  wid  perspiration,  I  is  so  mortally 
hot,"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  unbuttoned  her  cloak,  dis- 
closing a  shirtwaist  of  lavender  silk  elaborately  puffed. 

Dr.  Custis  failed  to  detect  a  single  globule  of  the 
perspiration  of  which  she  had  complained,  and  smiled 
significantly,  knowing  the  vanity  of  woman  even  down 


210        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

to  old  age.  It  was  the  lavender  waist  with  its  numer- 
ous puffs,  and  not  the  perspiration,  that  had  caused 
Cindie's  cloak  to  come  apart. 

"Is  dat  you,  Sis  Cindie?"  cried  Aunt  Millie 
Bowles,  rushing  up  with  outstretched  arms.  "Fo'  Je- 
sus, I  didn't  know  you  at  fust,  you  so  spruced  up. 
Whar  you  come  fum,  nigger?" 

And  Aunt  Millie  slapped  her  lips  on  Cindie's  with 
a  violence  of  love  that  was  heard  to  the  remotest  edge 
of  the  crowd,  and  Cindie,  who  was  as  genuinely  glad 
to  see  Aunt  Millie,  returned  the  kiss  with  a  violence 
as  resounding. 

"Go  long,  Millie  Bowles !  I  ain't  no  mo'  spruced 
up  dan  what  you  is,"  grinned  Cindie.  "You  jes'  talkin' 
to  heah  yo'sef  talk." 

And  Cindie  and  Millie  both  laughed  hilariously, 
like  the  happy,  ignorant  souls  that  they  were.  They 
were  lifelong  friends,  were  these  two  old  black  women. 
They  had  been  "girls  together,"  sisters  in  Shiloh  meet- 
ing-house for  over  half  a  century. 

"You  is  hearn  'bout  'Relius',  Sis  Millie?" 

"Yes,  chile.  Dat's  what  brung  me  way  to  Elk 
Bluff,  and  all  dese  udder  niggers,  too,  I  lay.  When 
Jeems  he  come  in  las'  night  and  tole  me  de  news,  I  riz 
up  in  bed,  I  did,  chile,  and  thanked  Ole  Marster  den 
and  dar  dat  my  pra'rs  done  bin  answered." 

"It's  all  Marse  Pierre's  and  de  chile's  doings," 
said  Cindie. 

"But  de  Lawd  he  was  back  of  'cm,  dey  was  only 
de  instruments  in  His  hands,"  rejoined  Aunt  Millie, 
who  scented  in  Cindie's  words  an  attack  on  the  efficacy 
of  prayer,  when  really  Cindie  intended  nothing  of  the 
kind.  But  Aunt  Millie,  much  as  she  loved  Cindie.  was 
exasperatingly  orthodox,  even  to  believing  in  "hell- 
fire  and  brimstone" — "de  naked  stuff  itself."  to  use 
her  words — and  she  had  caught  the  alarm  felt  in  com- 
mon  by   all    the    "Shiloh    niggers"   that    mammy's 


I 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         211 

orthodoxy  would  hardly  pull  her  through  "de  jedg- 
ment." 

'T  does  hope  to  Gawd  dis'll  prove  a  lesson  to  dat 
boy,"  said  Cindie,  "and  dat  he  won't  take  up  wid  no 
mo'  yaller  niggers." 

"Ain't  you  hearn  nuffin  from  Em'line  lately?" 
asked  Aunt  Millie. 

"How  come  I  know  anything  'bout  dat  yaller 
wench?  I  knows  dis  dough:  She  commoner  dan  jim- 
son  weed  wharever  she  is." 

"Maybe  she  done  made  a  perfession  and  de  Lawd 
done  wash  away  her  sins,"  suggested  the  charitably- 
inclined  Mrs.  Bowles,  a  touch  of  rebuke  in  her  voice. 

"Perfession !"  repeated  mammy  scornfully.  "What 
dat  amount  to  wid  niggers,  or  white  folks,  for  dat 
matter?  But  my  mind  is  on  niggers  now.  Dey  always 
pizen  meaner  arter  dey  perfess,  seem  like  to  me,  dan 
'fo'  dey  perfess.  Didn't  dat  yaller  wench  make  a  per- 
fession jes'  'fo'  she  done  what  she  done?  Is  you  clar 
done  forgit,  Alillie  Bowles,  all  dat  racket  whar  she 
kick  up  down  at  Shiloh  when  we  was  holdin'  dat  'tract- 
ed  meetin'  de  spring  'fo'  'Relius  kilt  dat  boy?  Don't 
you  rick'lic'  how  she  raised  de  roof  of  de  church  most 
off  by  dem  hallelujah  hollers  of  hern,  how  she  squeal 
out  and  squeal  out  dat  de  Lawd  done  took  her  feet 
out  de  miry  clay  and  sot  'em  on  de  Rock  of  Ages,  and 
how  she  lept  up  like  a  yaller  jacket  done  stung  her 
and  tore  her  ole  nigger  wool  most  outen  her  head 
and  how  it  took  all  de  muscle  whar  Brer  Jasper  and 
Brer  Jeems  Jurdan  and  Brer  Ebenezer  Harris  had 
'tween  'em  ter  keep  dat  nigger  fum  tearing  her  close 
offen  her  back?  Whar's  yo'  mem'ry,  nigger,  dat  you 
fergit  hist'ry  so  easy?" 

Dr.  Custis,  holding  Virginia's  hand,  stood  talking 
with  the  keeper  of  the  general  merchandise  store  so 
long  run  by  Mr.  Hardie,  who  had  sold  out  recently  and 
followed  Ben  to  Richmond. 

"Did  you  ever  see  such  a  gang  of  niggers  at  Elk 


212         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

Bluff?"  asked  the  merchant.  "You'd  think  there  was 
an  excursion  to  Lynchburg,  Natural  Bridge  or  some- 
where up  the  road.    There's  the  train!" 

The  Hardies  were  the  first  to  alight.  After  them 
came  Pelham,  and  then  Custis,  with  'Relius  holding 
pathetically  to  his  coat  ends. 

"'Relius,  my  boy!  Welcome  home!"  was  Dr. 
Custis's  cheery  greeting. 

The  tender  tones,  the  warm  hand-clasp  at  once 
dispelled  the  mulatto's  embarrassment,  and  in  his  joy 
at  beholding  his  beloved  master  again,  he  seized  the 
soft,  white  hand,  ever  stretched  in  loving-kindness  to 
others,  and  fell  to  kissing  it,  as  he  had  kissed  the  hand 
of  Custis  when  the  boy  came  to  him  in  prison  and  told 
him  he  had  come  to  take  him  home. 

And  when  Cindie  had  embraced  him,  a  comely, 
yellow  youngster  stood  looking  up  timidly  into  his  face. 
He  knew  instinctively  that  the  child  was  of  his  flesh, 
and  without  a  word  he  stooped  and  brought  the  lad 
up  to  his  heart  and  his  lips. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

Dr.  Custis,  with  Virginia,  entered  the  train  and 
walked  slowly  thrqugh  the  crowded  car. 

"Here  is  a  seat,  dear,"  said  a  beautiful  girl  with 
eyes  of  brown,  closing  a  copy  of  Tolstoy's  "Resur- 
rection," and  gently  drawing  the  little  girl  toward  her. 

The  physician  lifted  his  hat  in  acknowledgment  of 
the  kindness  shown  the  child,  and  the  little  one  sank 
down  beside  the  young  lady. 

"Those  are  lovely  roses  you  have,"  said  the  latter. 

Virginia  looked  over  the  bunch,  and,  selecting 
three  of  the  finest,  laid  them  in  the  lap  of  the  young 
lady. 

"Are  these  for  me?" 

The  child  smiled  affirmatively. 

"Oh,  thank  you — thank  you  very  much." 

"You  are  welcome.  I'd  give  you  all  of  them,  only 
I  want  to  take  some  to  Brother — and  a  friend." 

"You  are  very  generous,  dear.  Perhaps  I  ought 
not  to  take  these  from  you." 

"Oh,  I  can  spare  those.    I  want  you  to  have  them." 

She  looked  up  in  the  young  lady's  face  with  a 
smile  of  admiration ;  then  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  great 
Russian  novel. 

"Do  you  like  that  book  ?"  she  asked. 

"  'Resurrection,'  you  mean  ?"  said  the  young  lady, 
picking  up  the  volume  and  turning  its  leaves  mechan- 
ically.   "Yes,  I  am  deeply  interested  in  it." 

"Brother  sent  a  copy  of  it  to  Uncle  Pierre,  and 
Uncle  Pierre  sat  up  all  night  reading  it." 

213 


214        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"Is  that  gentleman  your  Uncle  Pierre  ?"  lowering 
her  voice. 

"That's  my  Uncle  Pierre." 

"And  he  sat  up  all  night  reading  this  book,  did 
he?    It  must  indeed  have  got  a  great  hold  on  him." 

"It  did.  It's  the  first  time  he  has  done  such  a 
thing  in  years,  and  when  he  wrote  Brother  what  he 
had  done,  Brother  wrote  him  that  he  wasn't  to  do  it 
again.     Brother  doesn't  think  it  good  for  his  health." 

The  young  lady  laughed. 

"You  love  your  brother  and  Uncle  Pierre  very 
much,  it  seems?" 

"I  love  the  very  ground  they  walk  on ;  but  I  love 
other  people  too.  I  am  not  so  selfish  that  I  can  love 
only  two  people  at  a  time." 

"Who  are  some  of  the  other  people  you  love  ?" 

"First  comes  Pelham." 

"Pelham?" 

"Why,  yes,  Pelham  Huntington.  Oh,  he  is  a 
sivcct  boy!  He  lives  in  New  York,  but  he  goes  to  Rich- 
mond College  with  Brother.    They  are  chums." 

"And  you  love  Pelham,  do  you?" 

"Of  course  I  do — next  to  Brother  and  Uncle 
Pierre.  He  is — my  sweetheart,"  and  the  little  thing 
blushed  very  prettily.  "I  don't  mind  telling  you 
this,"  she  added,  "because  you  don't  know  him." 

"Vineyard  Slope  !     Vineyard  Slope !" 

The  train  presently  "slow^ed  up"  at  the  station 
suggestive  of  wine  and  hills,  and  a  Avoman  with  a 
basket,  tin  bucket,  umbrella  and  colTee  pot  made  her 
way  to  the  platform.  Dr.  Custis  gallantly  assisted  her 
with  her  burdens,  and,  returning,  took  the  seat  she 
and  her  possessions  had  vacated.  It  was  immediately 
in  front  of  the  seat  occupied  by  Virginia  and  her  new 
friend,  and  the  physician  had  barely  seated  himself 
when  the  young  lady  touched  him  on  the  arm. 

"Pardon  me,"  she  said  sweetly,  "but  I  can't  keep 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         215 

silent  a  second  longer.  I  know  who  you  are  as  well 
as  if  you  had  told  me.    You  are — Dr.  Custis." 

"And  you  ?"  looking  full  into  the  fresh,  lovely  face 
of  the  girl.  "You — you  are  Miss  Yancey,  Pelham's 
sister?" 

"Virginia  Yancey — yes." 

"This  is  delightful,  positively  it  is!"  he  exclaimed. 
"I  have  longed  for  this  moment,"  he  added,  his  hand 
closing  warmly  over  hers. 

"And  my  desire  to  know  you  has  been  as  strong. 
Uncle  Pierre.  There,  it  is  out.  But  I  am  not  going 
to  apologize.  Pelhani  calls  you  Uncle  Pierre.  Why 
can't  I,  too?" 

"There  is  no  reason  in  the  world  why  you  can't, 
my  dear.  I  would  love  to  have  you  call  me  Uncle 
Pierre,  as  Custis  and  Pelham  do.  I  am  Uncle  Pierre 
to  those  who  love  me  the  most." 

"And  Pelham  is  one  of  them.  He  adores  you, 
does  the  dear  child." 

"And  his  love  is  fully  returned.  He  is  very  dear 
to  me,  is  the  little  chap.  He  has  the  gentleness,  the 
purity,  the  unselfishness  that  make  my  own  boy  so 
lovable.  Isn't  the  love  between  him  and  Custis  a  beau- 
tiful thing?" 

"I  know  of  nothing  so  beautiful  save  the  love 
between  you  and  Custis." 

"Doesn't  it  look  as  if  the  hand  of  God  were  shap- 
ing things?  Of  course,  you  know  all — I  mean  about 
Custis?"  leaning  closer  to  her  and  lowering  his  voice. 

"Yes.     Pelham  wrote  me." 

Here  Virginia  touched  Miss  Yancey  on  the  arm. 

"Are  you  Pelham's  sister?" 

"Yes,  dear,  but  your  secret  is  safe.  You  are  going 
down  to  the  com.mencement,  I  presume  ?"  turning  again 
to  Dr.  Custis. 

"Yes.  Custis  gets  his  M.  A.  Thursday.  Besides, 
I  want  to  hear  his  valedictory.    Pelham  wrote  me  that 


2i6        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

you  and  your  mother  would  visit  Ricliiiioud  about 
commencement  time." 

"Mother  is  already  there.  We  came  South  to- 
gether as  far  as  Washington.  She  went  on  to  Rich- 
mond and  I  went  to  Lynchburg  to  attend  the  marriage 
of  a  friend." 

Custis  and  Pelham  were  at  the  station  to  meet 
Dr.  Custis,  and  as  he  stepped  from  the  train  the 
youngsters  each  in  turn  seized  and  kissed  him,  and 
little  Virginia  came  in  for  like  treatment. 

"Boys,  I  have  with  me  another  Virginia,"  said 
the  Doctor,  as  he  handed  Miss  Yancey  from  the  train. 

"Why,  Virginia !"  exclaimed  Pelham.  "We  didn't 
expect  you  until  7:30.  You  didn't  write  what  route 
you  were  going  to  take,  and  we  concluded  you  were 
coming  over  the  N.  &  W." 

"Aren't  you  glad  to  see  me  if  I  didn't  come  over 
the  N.  &  W.  ?" 

"Of  course  I  am  !     You  heavenly  girl !" 

And  the  affectionate  boy's  arm  was  around  his 
sister's  neck  in  an  instant,  and  his  lips  on  hers. 

"What  have  you  been  doing  to  yourself,  dear?" 
she  asked.  "I  hardly  knew  you.  You  are  positively 
robust.     And  your  cheeks  are  pink  enough  to  bite." 

"It  is  all  Custis's  work.  He  has  had  me  in  hand 
for  nine  months.  Custis,  you  big  kid !  Come  here 
this  instant  and  speak  to  my  sister !" 

And  the  "big  kid"  approached  the  girl  with  a  smile 
and  a  hand  outstretched. 

"Custis!" 

"Virginia!" 

It  was  a  simple  greeting,  like  that  of  two  swcct- 
hcartcd  children  who  disdain  conventionalism's  way 
of  doing  things. 

"Wasn't  it  delightful — my  meeting  L^nclc  Pierre 
and  Virginia  on  the  train?"  she  asked. 

He  smiled  assent. 

"We  are  already  chums,  Uncle  Pierre  and  I,"  she 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         217 

continued,  laughing  deliciously,  "and  I  am  as  ready 
now  to  swear  by  him  as  are  you  and  Pelham," 

"Remember  Jesus — and  Tolstoy,  his  lonely  dis- 
ciple, and  swear  not  at  all,"  said  Pelham,  facetiously. 

"By  the  way,"  she  exclaimed,  "I  left  my  copy  of 
'Resurrection'  on  the  train." 

"I'll  get  it  for  you,"  said  Custis,  and  he  darted 
away,  while  Pelham  scampered  off  to  look  after  her 
baggage. 

Presently  Custis  returned  with  the  novel. 

"When  you  have  finished  the  book  I  want  you  to 
tell  me  what  you  think  of  it,"  he  said. 

"You  think  it  a  great  work,  Pelham  wrote  me?" 

"It  is  not  a  pleasant  work,  but  it  is  a  great  one. 
Its  ethical  vigor  alone  makes  it  great.  Uncle  Pierre 
is  of  the  sam.e  opinion." 

"Yes,"  said  the  Doctor.  "Tolstoy,  in  my  opinion, 
has  done  his  best  w^ork  in  'Resurrection.'  His  indict- 
ment of  civilization  and  official  Christianity  is  terrific. 
Yes,  it  is  a  powerful  book,  and  its  power  is  the  more 
manifest  by  contrast  with  the  historical  novels  with 
wdiich  we  have  been  deluged  since  the  war  between 
Roosevelt  and  Spain." 

"Alleged  historical  novels,"  said  Custis. 

"I  accept  your  amendment,"  bowed  the  Doctor. 

"The  book  involved  me  in  a  funny  little  experience 
soon  after  I  left  Lynchburg,"  said  Virginia.  "Some 
old  lady  of  evangelistic  turn  of  mind  assailed  m.e  sav- 
agely for  reading  such  a  book." 

"Is  that  so?"  cried  Custis.  "And  she  didn't  even 
knov/  you?" 

"I  had  never  seen  her  before." 

"She  was  wanting  in  good  manners,  to  say  the: 
least." 

"These  self-constituted  guardians  of  other  peo- 
ple's morals  and  religion  are  invariably  ill-bred,"  said 
Dr.  Custis.  "And  what  did  the  old  soul-saver  say  to 
you,  dear?" 


2i8         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"She  asked  me  if  I  knew  the  character  of  the  hook 
I  was  reading.  I  repHed  that  I  thought  I  did,  and 
then  I  asked  her  the  same  question  sh.e  had  put  to  me. 
She  hadn't  read  it,  she  said,  and  nothing  could  induce 
her  to  read  it ;  but  she  had  heard  the  book  denounced 
as  unfit  to  read.  Tolstoy  was  a  dangerous  and  wicked 
writer,  she  declared :  a  blasphemer,  an  infidel,  a  reviler 
of  Christ  and  Christianity.  To  all  this  I  simply  an- 
swered that  he  was  one  of  the  few  men  in  the  world 
who  really  took  Jesus  at  his  word,  who  didn't  treat 
God  as  a  joke." 

'"Good  for  you !"  cried  Custis,  clapping  his 
hands.    "And  what  did  she  say  to  that?" 

"Why,  she  called  her  'sacrilegious,' "  said  the 
physician. 

"That's  what  she  did,"  laughed  ]Miss  Yancey. 

"I  knew  it.  That  is  the  little  stone  these  old  pious 
shams  always  carry  about  with  them  to  hurl  at  you 
when  you  put  them  to  shame." 

Here  Pelham  returned. 

"Well,  Mrginia,  I  have  attended  to  everything, 
and  we'll  move  up  town  if  you  are  ready.  Uncle 
Pierre,  if  the  Hardies  weren't  expecting  you,  I  would 
make  you  go  along  with  us,  and,  Custis,  "slapping  his 
brother  on  the  arm,  "I  would  make  you  go,  too,  if  it 
weren't  that  Uncle  Pierre  hadn't  seen  you  since  Christ- 
mas. But  we'll  all  be  together  again  tomorrow  and 
every  day  while  we  are  in  Richmond.  Oh,  the  pic- 
nics ahead !" 

Custis  walked  with  A'irginia  to  the  cab  and  handed 
her  in.  Pelham  sprang  in  after  her  and  kissed  his 
hand  to  the  loved  ones  left  behind.  Then  the  cab 
rolled  swiftly  toward  the  JciTerson,  where  Mrs.  Hunt- 
ington was  staying. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

The  hour  was  midnight,  and  Pierre  Custis,  ac- 
counted an  infidel  by  churchHngs,  knelt  in  ecstatic 
communion  with  God.  He  was  close  to  the  heart  of 
the  Infinite  that  night,  was  this  half-rationalist,  half- 
mystic.  The  arms  of  the  Infinite  enwreathed  him,  and, 
filled  with  "the  peace  that  passeth  all  understanding," 
he  was  as  one  out  of  the  flesh  until  he  felt  the  caressing 
touch  of  Custis,  and,  looking  up,  beheld  the  boy. 

'T  didn't  hear  you  come  in,  son." 

'T  came  in  as  quietly  as  possible,  thinking  you 
were  asleep." 

"You  are  just  from  the  presence  of  Virginia?" 
said  the  physician,  as  he  rose  and  proceeded  to  light 
the  gas. 

"Yes,  Uncle  Pierre." 

"She  is  a  beautiful  girl,  Custis — beautiful  after 
the  flesh  and  beautiful  after  the  spirit.  I  love  the 
child." 

"I  would  think  it  strange,  Uncle  Pierre,  if  you 
didn't  love  her." 

"My  son,  I  am  very  happy  to-night.  I  was  not 
half  as  happy  on  the  night  of  my  graduation  as  I  am 
on  this  the  night  of  yours." 

"That  is  easily  explained,  Uncle  Pierre.  You  have 
lived  for  me.  You  love  me  with  a  love  'passing  the  love 
of  women.'  Hence  my  happiness  is  yours,  my  tri- 
umphs are  yours,  as  are  also  my  sorrows  and  my 
failures." 

2x9 


220        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"How  perfectly  you  untlcrstand  mc!  You  have 
always  understood  nie,  even  from  a  little  child — under- 
stood me  as  nobody  else  ever  did.  That  address  of 
yours  to-night,  son,"  after  a  pause,  "was  a  great 
effort.  It  was  an  inspiration,  my  boy.  God  bless 
you !" 

The  two  men  stood  looking  at  each  other  with 
wet  eyes. 

"Nothing  like  it  had  ever  been  heard  within 
those  old  college  walls  before,"  continued  the  Doctor. 
"How  it  stirred  everybody !  The  most  callous,  the  most 
shallow  came  completely  under  your  spell.  I  was 
never  in  all  my  life  so  proud  of  my  little  chap.  Vir- 
ginia, too,  was  proud  of  you.  I  could  read  it  in  her 
face.  She  had  eyes  only  for  your  face,  ears  only  for 
your  voice.  And  when  you  came  to  us  afterward, 
crowned  with  the  highest  honors  your  abjia  mater 
could  confer  upon  you,  I  watched  her,  and  her  face 
was  as  radiant  as  an  angel's.  It  glowed  with  her 
belief  in  you.  And  when  you  walked  away  with  her, 
the  sight  of  you  two  beautiful  young  things  going  out 
into  the  June  night  together  made  me  happier  than 
even  you  or  she  could  have  been.  I  thought  it  the 
divinest  picture  I  had  ever  seen.  I  brought  her  flowers 
up  for  you.    See  them  ?" 

"Aren't  they  beautiful  ?"  exclaimed  the  youngster, 
imbedding  his  nostrils  in  the  basket  of  roses.  "But 
where  are  your  flowers  and  Pelham's  and  Ben's  and 
all  the  others  I  got?    Where  are  yours,  Uncle  Pierre?" 

"Down  in  the  parlor,  all  the  flowers  you  got  ex- 
cept those  from  Virginia.  You  can  see  them  and 
enjoy  them  all  to-morrow.  These — Virginia's  gift — 
come  first." 

"Why  didn't  you  bring  yours  up,  even  if  you  left 
the  others  below — yours  with  hers?" 

"Because  I  must  decrease  as  she  increases.  But 
I  would  not  have  it  otherwise.    It  is  as  it  should  be." 

"Don't  talk  like  that,  Uncle  Pierre.     It  hurts  to 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         221 

the  core  of  me.  I  do  love  Virginia.  I  have  loved  her 
since  I  was  a  boy.  But  my  love  for  her  in  nowise 
conflicts  v/ith  my  love  for  you.  That  love  will  burn 
through  all  eternity.  I  love  you  as  no  son  ever  loved 
his  father,  as  no  brother  ever  loved  his  brother.  I  love 
you  as  the  boy  John  loved  Jesus,  only  more  steadfastly. 
For  I  know  I  could  never  desert  you  in  Gethsemane ;  I 
know  I  could  never  sleep  if  you  were  in  anguish  and 
needed  me." 

The  physician,  stirred  to  the  depths  of  him,  caught 
the  boy's  hand ;  but  he  could  not  speak. 

"Should  you  ever  have  to  pass  through  Gethse- 
mane," resumed  Custis,  "the  boy  you  love  will  be  with 
you,  loyal,  loving,  suffering  all  you  suffer.  And 
should  the  way  lead  to  Calvary  your  little  chap  will 
be  there,  too,  asking  to  be  crucified  with  you.  Perish 
the  thought  of  your  decreasing !  On  the  contrary,  you 
will  increase,  you  shall  increase,  as  the  years  go  by. 
If  you  should  go  first  (God  forbid!)  your  memory 
shall  be  as  fragrant  to  me  as  was  the  memory  of  Jesus 
to  John.  My  children  shall  know  of  you,  of  all  you 
were  to  me,  to  others,  and  to  the  world — and  to  their 
children  and  their  children's  children  your  name  shall 
be  handed  down  as  a  thing  sacred  and  sweet." 

They  had  strolled  as  far  as  the  river  and  were 
returning  to  Reservoir  Park  through  a  stretch  of  cool 
woods  with  the  freshness  of  the  morning  still  upon 
the  trees. 

"So  you  have  decided  to  round  up  at  Yale?"  she 
said. 

"Yes.  You  and  Uncle  Pierre,  your  mother  and 
Pelham — four  against  one — were  too  much  for  me.  I 
had  to  surrender." 

"There  was  nothing  else  for  you  to  do." 

She  stooped  and  plucked  a  lone  daisy  that  caressed 
her  skirt,  while  he  brushed  aside  the  bough  of  a  sweet 
gum  that  leaned  presumptuously  toward  her  face. 


222        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"And  we  shall  see  nothing  of  you  and  Pelham  be- 
fore the  summer  is  over?" 

"Not  before  the  first  of  September.  I  want  to 
spend  as  much  time  as  possible  with  Uncle  Pierre,  I 
have  been  with  him  so  little  of  my  college  life." 

"He  feels  your  absence  deeply,  I  know,  he  loves 
you  so." 

"Yes,  and  I  am  as  lonely  away  from  him.  I  want 
to  go  to  Yale,  Virginia,  as  much  as  you  want  me  to  go. 
Yet  I  can't  feel  right  about  it." 

"Why  shouldn't  you?" 

He  did  not  answer  at  once,  and  she  repeated  the 
question. 

"Because,"  he  began,  hesitatingly,  "because — 
well,  to  be  plain,  I  feel  as  if  Uncle  Pierre  had  done 
enough  for  me !  Oh,  Virginia !  Virginia  !"  he  broke 
out,  "you  know  not  the  hundredth  part  of  Uncle 
Pierre's  grandeur  of  soul.  When  I  look  upon  the  aver- 
age man — a  vulgar,  self -centered  animal  is  all  that  he 
is — and  then  look  upon  Pierre  Custis.  so  divinely 
fibered  that  he  feels  all  the  hurts  of  humanity  as  if  they 
were  his  own,  I  can  understand  the  sentiment  in  the 
early  Church  which  culminated  in  electing  Jesus  to 
co-equality  with  God." 

"Yes,  he  was  so  superhumanly  unselfish  that  the 
people  were  amazed,  and  his  disciples  understood  it  as 
little  as  did  the  others.  And  so  they  made  Him  God 
as  the  only  explanation  of  it." 

A  bend  in  the  road  brought  them  to  some  boys 
ruthlessly  stripping  a  mulberry  of  its  fruit. 

"Yes,  it  will  be  the  first  of  September  before  you 
see  us  in  New  York,"  said  Custis,  resuming  the  con- 
versation. "That  will  give  me  a  fortnight  or  more 
to  see  something  of  your  huge,  ugly  city  ;  to  meet  the 
leading  Socialist  spirits  and  to  get  in  touch  with  the 
movement.  I  will  offer  my  services  as  speaker.  I 
think  I  can  manage  to  run  down  from  New  I  laven  two 
or  three  evenings  a  week  while  the  campaign  is  on." 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         223 

"So  you  will  identify  yourself  with  the  Social 
Democratic  Party?" 

"Certainly.  I  am  thoroughly  out  of  patience  with 
these  silly/  half-grown  Socialists  who  dream  of  reach- 
ing the  co-operative  commonwealth  by  any  such  route 
as  16  to  I,  free  trade  or  anti-imperialism.  Oh,  I  am 
sick — so  sick  of  Bryanism!  For  what  is  it?  What 
does  it  stand  for?  It  is  the  envious  wail  of  the  little 
shopkeeper  beaten  at  his  own  game  of  competition. 
It  is  the  stupid  cry  of  the  farmer  who  refuses  to  go 
deeper  than  the  tariff  or  the  currency  for  the  cause  of 
his  ills.  This  is  all  that  there  is  to  Bryanism,  and  for 
the  life  of  me  I  can't  see  why  any  man  calling  himself 
a  Socialist  can  longer  cling  to  such  a  movement,  now 
that  there  is  in  the  field  a  party  which  stands  for  adult 
socialism — the  full-flowered  Marxian  article.  O  listen 
to  that  mocking-bird,  Virginia !  Surely,  a  creature  that 
can  sing  so  divinely  must  have  a  soul !" 

"Its  notes  are  divine !"  she  exclaimed. 

And  they  were  silent  until  the  bird  ceased  singing. 
Then  Custis  spoke  again : 

"In  1896,  when  Mr.  Bryan  was  first  nominated, 
Uncle  Pierre  and  I  were  swept  off  our  feet  by  what 
we  mistook,  along  with  so  many  others,  for  an  uprising 
of  the  people  which  would  culminate  in  socialism. 
But  we  were  soon  destined  to  see  our  mistake,  to  realize 
that  socialism  can  never  come  through  either  of  the 
two  old  parties ;  that  the  only  way  to  bring  it  about  is 
to  work  for  it  through  a  party  of  our  own — a  party  of 
uncompromising,  clean-cut  Socialists  who  know  where 
they  are." 

The  speaker  removed  a  caterpillar  from  his  cuff. 

"There  is  one  also  on  your  shoulder,  making  for 
your  neck,"  said  Virginia,  "Bend  down  a  little  and 
I'll  brush  it  off." 

And  she  did  it  with  a  heroism  which  argued  that 
she  could  have  confronted  a  mouse  as  bravely. 

"Pelham  is  with  me,  heart  and  soul,"  said  Custisi 


224        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"He  is  all  afire  with  enthusiasm.  I  have  no  doubt  that 
before  the  campaign  is  over  he  will  have  joined  the 
ranks  of  socialist  orators.  You  are  with  us,  aren't 
you,  Virginia?" 

"Yes,  heartily,"  she  answered.  "If  I  were  not,  I 
should  feel  myself  a  traitor  to  Truth.  I,  too,  was 
carried  away  on  the  wave  of  Bryanism  four  years  ago, 
but  I  have  lived  to  repent  my  mistake,  as  you  and  Uncle 
Pierre  have  done." 

"It  does  me  good  to  hear  you  talk  so,  Virginia — 
you  who  have  every  reason,  from  the  earthling's  point 
of  view,  to  be  selfish  and  conservative,  to  train  with  the 
oppressors  of  the  people.  Women  are  provokingly 
conservative.  Politically,  they  are  nonentities,  like 
parrots,  voicing  the  opinions  of  their  fathers,  hus- 
bands, or  brothers.  You  are  unlike  any  other  girl  I 
ever  knew.  Your  courage,  your  breadth  of  vision, 
your  depth  of  tenderness  for  the  disinherited,  make 
you  magnificent  in  my  eyes.  Other  women  beside  you 
appear  to  me  so  colorless,  with  their  little  aims  and 
large  prejudices.  You  are  a  glorious  girl,  Virginia ! 
Why  are  there  so  few  women  like  you  ?" 

She  lifted  to  him  her  wondrous  eyes  of  brown, 
like  pansies  in  their  vclvetincss. 

"And  why  are  there  so  few  men  like  you,  virile, 
tender,  clean,  loving  right  above  life,  others  above  self? 
I  have  never  known  anything  so  beautiful  as  this  glad 
giving  of  yourself  for  your  fellows.  And  you  have  so 
imbued  me  with  your  spirit  that  I  can  accept  no  other 
interpretation  of  life  but  yours.  To  reject  it  would  be 
to  crucify  the  God  within  me." 

"Virginia !   Sweetheart !" 

He  caught  her  hand,  and  they  paused  in  the  un- 
sunned path  where  the  ferns  llourished  and  unnum- 
bered wild  red  roses  flung  their  fragrance  to  breezes 
breathing  of  brooks. 

"I  love  you,  Virginia!     I  love  you,  sweetheart!" 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH        225 

"And  I  love  you,  Custis !  How  can  I  help  it  ?  You 
big,  beautiful  boy !" 

He  ran  his  arm  around  her.  She  lifted  her  lips 
to  meet  his,  and  the  two  young  mouths,  clean  as  clover, 
drifted  into  a  long,  rapturous  kiss. 

^  ^  yii  ^  ^  ^  ^ 

On  their  return  to  Reservoir  Park  they  found  Dr. 
Custis  and  Mrs.  Huntington  seated  under  the  mimosa 
trees  where  they  had  left  them  an  hour  ago. 

"Well,  young  tramps,  have  you  shown  up  at  last?" 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Huntington.  "You  delicious  boy !" 
she  added,  closing  her  hand  over  Custis's  and  smiling 
up  at  him.  "Where  have  you  been?  Tell  us  all  about 
it  now." 

"We  strolled  as  far  as  the  New  Pumphouse." 

"Which  means  as  far  as  Three-Mile  Locks, 
translated  into  the  language  of  tow-path  days.  Pierre," 
turning  to  the  sweetheart  of  her  school  days,  "do  you 
remember  that  picnic  we  had  one  Easter  at  Three- 
Mile  Locks  ?" 

"Do  I  ?  Easter  never  comes  that  it  doesn't  bring 
up  memories  of  that  day,"  replied  the  Doctor,  with  a 
reminiscent  smile. 

"And  do  you  remember,  Pierre,  that  big  catfish 
I  caught?" 

"It  was  a  monster,  as  catfish  go." 

"Indeed,  it  was.  It  was  all  I  could  do  to  land 
the  hideous  thing." 

"Uncle  Pierre,"  exclaimed  Virginia,  "do  you 
know  that  mother  is  prouder  of  having  caught  that  old 
catfish  than  all  the  other  things  she  ever  caught,  her 
two  husbands  included  ?  She  carries  a  big  head  to  this 
day  because  of  that  James  River  catfish  she  hooked 
thirty  Easters  ago.  Other  people  have  caught  catfish, 
mother.  Oh,  we  had  a  divine  walk,  Custis  and  I !" 
seizing  Mrs.  Huntington's  cheeks  between  her  palms. 
"Didn't  we,  Custis?" 

"I  never  enjoyed  a  walk  more.     You  and  Uncle 


226        REBELS  OF  THE  XEW  SOUTH 

Pierre  ought  to  have  been  \Yith  us,  IMrs.  Huntington. 
We  wished  for  you,  didn't  we,  Virginia  ?" 

"Pierre,"  said  Mrs.  Huntington,  "do  you  beheve 
that  boy  for  one  moment?  If  you  do,  I  don't.  Custis, 
honey,  you  must  not  tell  stories,  even  from  a  desire  to 
make  old  folks  feel  good." 

"Really,  I  wasn't  fibbing,  Mrs.  Huntington.  Was 
I,  Virginia?" 

"Don't  appeal  to  Virginia!  I  know  all  about  it. 
I  have  been  there  myself.  Just  listen  to  those  other 
youngsters !  It  looks  as  if  they  were  going  the  way  of 
you  older  kids." 

"Where  are  they?    On  the  lake?"  asked  Custis. 

"Yes.  Pierre  and  I  were  watching  them  just 
before  you  and  Virginia  came  back.  Pelham  can 
handle  an  oar,  can't  he?" 

"He  can  indeed." 

"What  a  change  has  come  over  the  child!  I  am 
delighted  to  see  the  things  he  can  do.  He  used  to  be 
so  shy  and  timid,  poor  little  fellow.  He  didn't  seem  to 
care  for  the  society  of  his  own  sex  at  all  until  you 
came  into  his  life.  It  is  marvelous — the  man  you 
are  building  out  of  him.  He  called  us  into  his  room 
the  other  evening  when  he  was  stripped  for  his  even- 
ing exercises,  and,  really,  I  gasped  for  admiration.  His 
arms,  his  legs,  his  back,  his  calves — they  are  all  just 
beautiful !    He  is  growing  into  a  little  Hercules." 

"Such  billows  of  muscle !"  exclaimed  Virginia. 
"He  frightened  me,  he  looked  so  strong." 

Here  the  laughter  of  the  youngster  whom  they 
were  discussing  floated  musically  over  the  water  and 
through  the  trees,  and  the  next  moment  the  gleeful 
laughter  of  little  Virginia  blended  joyously  with  Pel- 
ham's. 

"Those  kids  are  enjoying  themselves,  that's  ob- 
vious," remarked  Custis. 

And  he  and  Virginia,  on  a  half-run,  sought  the 
lake. 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         22y 

Pelham,  seeing  them,  shouted  ktstily  across  the 
water  and  rowed  rapidly  toward  the  shore. 

"Get  a  boat,  Custis,  and  join  us,  you  and  Vir- 
ginia." 

"How  do  you  vote  on  the  question,  sweetheart?" 

"Aye!" 

And  when  Dr.  Custis  and  Mrs.  Huntington  came 
after  a  while  to  look  for  them  they  were  away  out  on 
the  lake  cornering  as  much  fun  as  were  Pelham  and 
Virginia  U.  ^ 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

It  was  an  eager  multitude  that  overflowed 
Cooper  Union  that  evening — a  multitude  made  up 
for  the  most  part  of  the  world's  drudges  and  slaves, 
the  same  class  that  centuries  ago  had  heard  with 
gladness  the  young  Revolutionist  of  Nazareth. 
These  common  people  of  to-day  had  gathered  as 
gladly  to  hear  a  young  revolutionist  who  had  come 
up  out  of  Dixie — a  land  as  much  despised  by  some 
as  was  Nazareth,  where  Jesus  was  brought  up. 

Every  seat  was  filled,  and  one  could  have 
counted  hundreds  to  whom  the  fatigue  of  standing 
was  lost  in  the  anticipation  of  hearing  the  "Boy 
from  Dixie,"  whose  thorough  knowledge  of  so- 
cialism and  winsome  way  of  presenting  it  had  al- 
ready endeared  him  to  the  thoughtful  among  the 
proletariat  and  quickened  to  social  righteousness 
many  long  dead  in  their  political  trespasses  and  sins. 

On  the  Saturday  night  before  he  had  run  down 
to  Brooklyn  to  speak  before  an  immense  throng  that 
filled  Park  Theatre  up  to  the  gallery  of  the  "un- 
washed." On  this  the  Saturday  evening  before 
election  he  had  left  his  studies  to  make  another 
appeal  to  the  wealth-creators  to  unite  and  strike  for 
industrial  freedom. 

Promptly  at  8  o'clock  Custis  walked  on  the 
stage,  accompanied  by  Virginia  and  Pelham,  who 
had  both  openly  espoused  the  cause  of  the  Social 
Democratic   Party.     The  ovation   the  young   South- 

238 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         229 

erner  received  was  tremendous  and  prolonged,  and 
when  at  length  it  subsided,  the  chairman,  a  young 
man  of  attractive  personality  himself,  introduced  the 
"Boy  from  Dixie"  in  language  like  this: 

"It  is  my  privilege  and  my  delight  to  present 
to  you  the  speaker  of  the  evening — a  young  comrade 
who,  in  the  few  weeks  he  has  been  among  us,  has 
completely  won  our  hearts,  not  only  because  of  his 
masterful  and  eloquent  exposition  of  socialism,  but 
also  because  of  his  virile  youth,  his  white  life,  his 
splendid  audacity.  While  most  of  his  classmates 
at  old  Yale  are  shouting  themselves  hoarse  for  the 
nominees  of  the  party  that  stands  for  the  economics 
and  the  ethics  of  Nero,  and  a  small  minority  of 
them,  in  the  face  of  the  arrogant  majority,  are  on 
the  side  of  Democracy  in  its  impotent  efforts  to 
rescue  the  fast  disappearing  middle  class  from  ex- 
tinction— this  boy,  with  the  courage  of  a  god,  lays 
his  wealth  of  youth,  of  intellect,  of  character,  upon 
the  altar  of  Socialism,  the  religion  of  humanity.  It 
is  unnecessary  to  say  more.  Comrades  and  friends, 
the  honor  is  mine  to  present  to  you  Comrade  Chris- 
tian of  Old  Virginia." 


Custis  had  just  finished  his  weekly  letter  to  Dr. 
Custis,  or  "Saturday  budget,"  as  Pelham  facetiously 
dubbed  it. 

"Ten  minutes  past  two  o'clock!"  he  exclaimed, 
looking  at  his  watch.  "Four  hours  beyond  the  Holly 
Hill  bed  hour !  Ah,  well !  One  can't  expect  to  retire 
every  night  with  the  birds  in  this  strenuous  town." 

He  arose,  stretching  himself. 

"I  think  I'll  turn  in  now,"  he  muttered.  "I  am 
tired — positively  tired.  Why,  who  can  that  be?" 
looking  toward  the  door  on  which  some  one  had 
rapped.  "Everybody  in  the  house  has  been  asleep 
for  two  hours  or  more." 


230         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

Here  came  another  rap,  slightly  louder  than 
the  first. 

"All  right,  my  friend,"  he  responded,  and  he 
sprang  forward  and  opened  the  door.  He  drew 
back,  surprised.    His  father  stood  before  him. 

"Pardon  my  presumption,  and  at  this  unsea- 
sonable hour,"  began  Mr.  Huntington.  "It  is  the 
first  time  I  have  been  guilty  of  anything  of  the  kind 
since  you  have  been  visiting  the  house." 

"It  is  I,  perhaps,  who  am  the  presumptuous 
party  rather  than  you,"  returned  Custis,  flushing. 

"Not  so.  You  come  as  the  guest  of  Mrs.  Hunt- 
ington and  her  children.  It  is  her  house.  Besides, 
I  have  learned  of  the  difficulty  they  had  in  over- 
coming your  delicacy  about  coming  here  because 
of  my  presence.  For  this  reason  I  have  not  sought 
to  embarrass  you  in  any  way,  studiously  absenting 
myself  whenever  I  knew  you  were  coming.  Never- 
theless, I  have  longed  to  be  near  you.  to  talk  with 
you,  and  the  opportunity  presenting  itself  to-night, 
I  could  not  resist  it." 

"Come  in,  Mr.  Huntington,"  said  Custis,  dig- 
nifiedly. 

Fred  Huntington  bowed  in  acknowledgment  of 
the  invitation,  and,  entering  the  room,  sank  into  the 
seat  offered  him  by  his  son. 

"Are  you  through  your  letter-writing?"  he 
asked,  glancing  at  the  bulky  letter  addressed  to  Dr. 
Custis,  which  Custis  had  left  on  his  desk. 

"For  to-night  I  am,"  replied  Custis. 

"Is  that  boy  asleep?"  continued  the  elder  man, 
looking  toward  the  door  which  connected  the  rooms 
of  his  sons. 

Pclham  had  left  the  door  ajar,  as  was  his  wont. 

Custis  glided  across  the  room  and  closed  it. 

"You  have  made  a  man  of  him,"  observed  Hunt- 
ington, as  Custis  sat  down,  facing  him.     "There  is 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         231 

little  or  none  of  the  Sissie  in  him  now.  I  am  almost 
proud  of  the  boy." 

"He  has  always  been  a  boy  to  be  proud  of.  He 
has  never  been  a  Sissy.  You  have  wronged  him 
deeply.  You  simply  didn't  understand  the  little 
chap,  and  you  didn't  seek  to  do  it.  Instinctively  he 
felt  the  injustice  you  did  him,  and  he  shrank  from 
you,  refusing  to  be  understood." 

"You  and  he  are  very  fond  of  each  other?" 

"Why  shouldn't  we  be?  We  are  one  in 
thought." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"There  is  no  stronger  tie  than  that  of  affinity. 
All  friendships  that  endure,  all  loves  that  last,  spring 
from  affinity.  Repudiated  by  my  own  father,  I 
found  a  father  in  a  stranger.  To-day  that  man  and 
I  are  as  nearly  one  as  it  is  possible  for  two  souls 
to  be.  It  is  affinity,  not  consanguinity,  that  makes 
this  oneness.  I  would  not  exchange  the  love  of 
Pierre  Custis  for  the  loves  of  a  hundred  fathers,  and 
I  am  speaking  of  the  average  father,  who  confesses 
his  son  before  the  world — not  the  unnatural  father, 
who,  like  the  barnyard  cock,  begets  but  to  disown." 

The  plutocrat  winced.  The  young  agitator  had 
given  him  a  thrust  that  cut  keenly. 

"Custis!" 

There  was  appeal  in  his  voice. 

"Well,  Mr.  Huntington?" 

"I  wish — I  wish  you  wouldn't  address  me  like 
that.  It  strikes  my  heart  like  ice,  as  if  I  were  noth- 
ing to  you." 

"What  would  you  have  me  call  you?  Surely 
not  by  your  Christian  name?  That  would  be  most 
presumptuous  of  me,  a  chap  young  enough  to  be 
your  son,  and,  worse  still,  a  chap  who  had  to  fall 
back  on  his  mother  for  a  name,  because,  with  her, 
his  father  had  denied  him  his." 

"My  God,  boy  !   Don't  taunt  me  like  that !" 


232        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

He  caught  Custis's  hand.  The  boy's  first  im- 
pulse was  to  snatch  it  away,  but  he  let  it  remain 
passive  in  his  father's,  while  the  latter  went  on : 

"I  swear  to  you,  Custis,  it  would  be  the  proud- 
est day  of  my  life  to  acknowledge  you  as  my  son 
before  the  world,  to  be  able  to  point  to  you  and 
say.  That's  my  boy!'  But  you  know  how  things 
stand.  I  could  not  do  it  without  compromising  you 
in  the  eyes  of  society." 

"And  not  yourself  as  well  ?" 

"No,  it  would  not  compromise  me,  but  it  would 
you,  my  son.  Of  course,  it  looks  damned  hard;  it 
is  all  wrong.  But  you  know  how  the  world  is,  how 
it  looks  at  things." 

"I  know!  I  know!  And  my  mother,  too,  had 
cause  to  know!  She  drank  to  the  dregs  of  its 
damnable  cruelty." 

Huntington  winced  again. 

Custis  smiled  bitterly  through  the  tears  that 
the  memory  of  his  mother  had  brought  to  his  eyes. 

"Then  you  concede  the  injustice  of  society — 
the  hellish  injustice  of  it — when  it  would  have  no 
condemnation  for  you,  the  criminal,  but  would  visit 
on  me,  your  innocent  ofifspring,  the  penalty  of  your 
crime?  You  it  would  smile  upon;  me  it  would 
ostracize,  if  our  relationship  were  known.  This,  I 
take  it,  is  what  you  mean  by  compromising  me?" 

"Yes,  and  I  admit  it  is  unjust — hellishly  un- 
just— as  you  would  put  it.  But  it  can't  be  helped. 
It  is  the  way  of  society." 

"To  the  devil  with  society  I  T  am  not  asking 
anything  of  society.  I  am  not  cringing  at  its  doors 
for  admission.  What  do  I  care  for  Nero's  fiddlers? 
I  have  chosen  the  better  way.  I  have  cast  my  lot 
with  the  ones  whom  society  oppresses,  exploits, 
robs,  murders;  with  the  men,  women  and  children 
who  slave  their  lives  away  in  mine  and  field,  fac- 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         233 

tory  and  sweatshop,  that  your  class  may  revel  in 
luxury  and  wantonness." 

"All  that's  very  pretty  talk,  my  son,  and  you 
feel  every  word  of  it  now.  But  time  and  a  conserva- 
tive environment  can  be  relied  upon  to  cure  you." 

"Cure  me  of  what?" 

"Why,  your  virulent  case  of  socialistic  rabies." 

"What  do  you  take  me  for?" 

"A  most  marvelous  youngster,  clever  and 
charming  beyond  any  other  person  I  know.  Can  I 
say  more?"  Then,  after  a  pause:  "I  heard  your 
speech  in  Cooper  Union  to-night,  Custis." 

"You  did?"  betraying  surprise. 

"I  heard  your  speech  also  in  Brooklyn  last  Sat- 
urday night.  I  have  heard  you  every  time  you  have 
spoken  in  Greater  New  York.  While  I  take  no  stock 
in  your  socialistic  fallacies,  I  love  your  voice.  It 
thrills,  it  touches  me  as  no  music  does.  Your  chaste 
English  and  your  wonderful  command  of  it — this, 
too,  is  delightful.  Your  youth,  your  fire,  your 
beauty  conspire  to  make  you  irresistible  to  your 
father.  Whenever  you  speak  I  have  to  listen.  I 
can't  stay  away  from  you.  I  would  leave  the  most 
urgent  thing  undone  to  hear  you.  I  would  forego 
the  most  brilliant  company  for  an  evening  of  my 
boy's  eloquence.  Has  it  never  struck  you  that  you 
are  a  young  man  of  superior  brains,  of  extraordinary 
force?  That  you  have  all  the  elements  of  greatness?" 

"I  have  never  given  it  a  thought.  Greatness, 
as  the  world  defines  it,  carries  so  little  of  love  for 
one's  fellows  and  so  much  of  selfishness  and  vain- 
glory, that  I  have  no  desire  to  offer  myself  a  candi- 
date for  greatness." 

"Alas!  for  the  influence  of  Pierre  Custis!" 

"Stop !  Not  a  word  against  Uncle  Pierre,  if  you 
wish  me  to  listen  to  you  further !" 

"I  have  said  nothing  against  him.     I  could  not 


234        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

without  speaking  against  the  only  absohitcly  unsel- 
fish man  I  ever  knew." 

"Thank  you.  I  can  forgive  you  much  for  say- 
ing that." 

Huntington  smiled.  There  was  something  truly 
beautiful  in  the  boy's  love  for  the  bachelor  who  had 
brought  him  up. 

"Yes,  you  have  in  3'ou  the  stuff  that  makes  for 
greatness,  and  to-night,  as  I  sat  under  the  spell  of 
your  voice,  the  conviction  broke  upon  me  with  such 
force  as  almost  to  intoxicate  me.  But  you  can't 
expect  greatness  to  come  to  you  while  you  remain 
in  such  company  as  you  are  in  now.  Do  you  know, 
my  boy,  you  are  throwing  your  life  away?  What 
do  you  expect  to  gain  by  it?  The  love  of  the  mob 
that  you  seek  to  uplift?  Never!  It  v.-ill  only  turn 
and  rend  you  for  your  sacrifice.  Ingratitude,  sus- 
picion, contumely,  crucifixion — these  are  the  things 
you  will  get  in  exchange  for  the  gift  of  your  mag- 
nificent youth.  I  can't  bear  to  see  you  sacrificed  in 
this  manner,  and  I  will  not  see  it !  Come  out  from 
these  Socialists,  Custis !  They  are  only  a  crowd  of 
cranks  and  failures." 

"That's  enough  !"  cried  Custis. 

"1  am  talking  to  you  for  your  good." 

"I  won't  listen  to  you !" 

"You  shall  listen  to  me !" 

"Shall?  Shall?  That  implies  command — a  word 
that  a  master  uses  in  addressing  his  slave." 

"And  it  is  a  word  that  a  father  has  the  right  to 
use  in  addressing  his  son  when  he  sees  the  boy 
foolishly  pursuing  some  will-o'-the-wisp — as  so- 
cialism, for  instance." 

"Aren't  you  rather  late  in  the  day  bobbing  up 
with  your  fatherly  solicitude?" 

Huntington  flushed,  biting  his  lii)s. 

"I    confess    I    am,"   he   said,   with   a   show   of 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         235 

humiliation.  'T  merit  all  your  superb  scorn.  I  know 
I  have  not  done  the  right  thing  by  you,  Custis." 

"You  put  it  mildly.  The  thing  you  did  was  no 
misdemeanor." 

'T  know  it," 

"It  was  villainous !" 

"Yes,  it  was  villainous." 

"It  was  devilish,  I  say !" 

"Yes,  it  was  devilish." 

"I  say  it  was  worse  than  devilish — the  way  you 
treated  my  mother  and  me." 

"Yes,  it  was  worse  than  devilish — the  way  I 
treated  your  mother  and  you.  But  can't  a  man 
atone?" 

"Your  day  of  atonement  is  gone." 

"You  can't  forgive  me,  then?" 

"I  wish  I  could.  But  there  is  my  mother — 
my  poor  little  mother!  Memories  of  her  and  her 
wrongs  have  fixed  a  gulf  between  us." 

"But  not  a  gulf  that  is  impassable.  Custis, 
there  is  nothing  I  would  not  do  for  you — nothing  in 
my  power — you  fill  my  heart  so  absolutely.  Since 
that  day  I  first  saw  you  in  Richmond  you  have  been 
in  my  thoughts  all  the  time,  you  have  lived  in  my 
dreams.  Not  till  that  day  had  I  felt  the  thrill,  the 
joy  of  fatherhood,  though  the  father  of  another  son. 
Do  you  remember  how  I  drew  you  down  on  my 
knee  in  the  car  that  day?  I  could  have  held  you 
there  forever,  the  contact  with  you,  the  atmosphere 
of  my  boy,  were  so  delightful.  Oh,  my  son !  my 
son !  I  wish  I  could  wipe  out  the  blot  on  your  birth  ! 
I  sorrow  unceasingly  over  your  illegitimacy.  It  is 
not  enough  to  know  you  are  my  son ;  I  want  every- 
body else  to  know  it,  I  feel  such  inordinate  pride  in 
your  sonhood.  But  if  the  joy  I  covet  above  all 
things  in  the  world  be  denied  me,  if  I  cannot  call 
you  Custis  Huntington — the  name  I  would  give  my 


236         REBELS  OE  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

life  to  Ijcstow  upon  3-011 — it  is  still  my  privilege  to 
love  vou,  to  serve  you,  to  make  you  co-heir  with 
Pelham." 

Custis  picked  up  two  crimson  carnations — one 
worn  by  Pelham,  the  other  by  himself,  at  the  Cooper 
Union  meeting — and  pressed  them  to  his  nostrils. 

''Now,  I  have  laid  naked  my  heart  to  you,"  said 
his  father,  going  on  after  a  while.  "You  know  how 
I  feel  toward  you.  So  you  can  appreciate  my  desire 
to  rescue  you  from  the  mistake  of  your  life.  Custis, 
I  want  you  to  give  up  all  this  Socialist  foolishness." 

"This,  then,  is  the  price  I  must  pay  for  your 
love?  This  is  what  you  demand  of  me  if  I  wish  to 
become  co-heir  with  Pelham?  I  must  turn  traitor 
to  Right?  I  must  desert  the  cause  of  the  people? 
I  must  enlist  in  the  ranks  of  their  exploiters?" 

"The  people  be  damned  !" 

"I  have  read  that  one  Vanderbilt  once  upon  a 
time  said  the  same  inelegant  and  undemocratic 
thing." 

"And  I  voice  Mr.  Vanderbilt's  sentiment.  Why 
should  you  throw  yourself  away  upon  the  damned 
cattle?  Whose  fault  is  it  that  the  people  are  where 
they  are?" 

"It  is  their  fault." 

"You  admit  it,  then?" 

"Certainly.  So  long  as  they  go  on  blindly  vot- 
ing the  Republican  and  Democratic  tickets  year 
after  year,  they  have  only  themselves  to  blame  for 
their  poverty  and  degradation.  But  they  will  not  al- 
ways be  so  stupid.  They  will  not  always  be  de- 
ceived by  the  cry  of  a  'full  dinner  pail' — the  cheap 
device  of  a  party  ruled  by  Hannas  and  Quays.  They 
will  come  some  day  to  see  that  they  are  more  than 
swine,  that  they  are  entitled  to  more  than  a  full 
trough  of  swill,  that  they  are  inoi!  And  woe  unto 
you  Republican  rascals  and  hypocrites  who  have 
deceived  the  people!     For  they  will  come  in  time 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         237 

to  their  own,  will  these  creators  of  the  world's 
wealth,  whom  you  Republicans  regard  as  damned 
cattle,  and  when  they  do  pass  into  their  inheritance, 
kept  back  so  long  from  them  by  fraud,  the  Repub- 
lican party — the  'sum  of  all  villainies' — will  have 
disappeared  from  the  land,  along  with  the  brazen, 
plundering  plutocracy  for  which  it  has  existed  since 
the  passing  of  Lincoln,  who  gave  it  the  little  honesty 
it  had  in  the  beginning." 

"Perhaps,  but  it  shall  not  pass  away  until  it 
has  heaped  coals  of  fire  upon  your  head,  my  fiery 
youngster.  It  shall  some  day  give  you  greatness, 
perhaps  sweep  you  into  the  White  House.  Why 
not?  Others  less  brilliant  have  got  there!  God! 
I  would  love  to  see  you  in  the  Republican  party. 
That's  the  place  for  you,  if  you  have  political  ambi- 
tion. Shake  off  these  miserable  beggars  and  mal- 
contents with  whom  you  train  at  present  and  come 
over  into  the  grand  old  Republican  party  of  en- 
lightenment and  progress — the  party  in  which  you 
can  rise  to  eminence.  Take  your  stand  with  your 
father,  my  boy.  My  wealth,  my  influence,  all  that  I 
have,  with  myself,  I  pledge  to  your  uplift  in  the 
world." 

Custis  flung  from  him  his  father's  hand,  which 
had  laid  hold  of  his,  recoiling  from  his  would-be 
seducer  with  a  scorn  that  made  him  look  like  an 
indignant  god. 

"Perhaps  you  mean  well,"  he  said,  "but  to  me 
the  Republican  party  is  an  organization  so  stu- 
pendously vile,  its  mission  so  appallingly  wicked 
and  traitorous — that  of  enslaving  the  common  peo- 
ple and  destroying  every  vestige  of  popular  govern- 
ment— that  I  can  but  regard  your  proposition  as  a 
personal  affront.  Your  gen<?rosity,  prodigal  as  it 
appears  on  the  surface,  canviot  conceal  that  dam- 
nable cynicism  of  your  class — 'Every  man  has  his 
price!'     My  price,  you  seem  to  imply,  is  political 


238         REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

glory  because  I  have  taken  to  politics.  Ah,  how 
utterly  you  old  party  politicians  misunderstand  us 
miserable  beggars  and  malcontents.  Because  you 
are  in  politics  for  pelf  or  power  you  ascribe  to  us 
the  same  base  motives  that  actuate  you.  I  want  you 
to  understand,  Mr.  Huntington,  that  the  Socialist 
is  in  politics  because  of  his  love  of  humanity,  not  for 
graft  or  glory.  If  he  were  in  politics  for  either  of 
those  things  he  would  go  with  the  Republican  or 
Democratic  party,  for  there  is  neither  graft  nor 
glory  for  anybody  who  espouses  socialism.  Oftener 
than  not,  the  Socialist's  reward  is,  as  you  put  it, 
'ingratitude,  suspicion,  contumely,  crucifixion.'  " 

Frederick  Huntington's  face  showed  no  dis- 
pleasure, no  resentment  because  of  Custis's  words. 
The  only  emotion  it  mirrored  was  love — unspeak- 
able love  for  the  audacious  youngster,  this  brilliant, 
unspoiled  ofifshoot  of  his  flesh,  who  loved  justice, 
who  dreamed  of  brotherhood,  as  other  young  men 
loved  pleasure,  as  other  young  men  dreamed  of 
power. 

"You  are  severe  on  my  party,"  laughed  the 
gentleman.  "The  prejudices  of  the  Southerner  and 
the  Socialist  have  met  in  you,  it  seems,  making  your 
hatred  of  Republicanism  terrific.  But  all  prejudice 
aside,"  he  added,  with  a  feeble  show  of  aggressive- 
ness, "have  you  not  observed  that  the  best  people  of 
the  North  are  Republicans  ?" 

"I  have  observed  that  your  millionaires  and  a 
multitude  of  climbers  who  would  like  to  be  thought 
millionaires  are  for  the  most  part  Republicans."  re- 
^  plied  Custis.  "But  I  will  never  concede  that  these 
*'])lutocrats  and  would-be  plutocrats,  because  of  their 
dollars,  are  your  best  people.  What  do  you  take 
me  for?    A  damned  snob?" 

Huntington  was  smiling,  and  it  was  a  smile  that 
held  no  antagonism.     It  was  a  smile  indicative  of 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         239 

something  larger  than  tolerance.  It  was  a  smile  of 
sympathy,  a  smile  of  surrender. 

Custis  wondered  what  it  meant.  Could  he  have 
made  his  father  ashamed  of  his  political  wickedness, 
as  he  had  made  him  ashamed  of  his  carnal  wicked- 
ness? Could  he  have  unsettled  his  father's  belief 
in  the  right  of  cunning  to  rule,  in  the  divinity  of  gold 
as  against  the  divinity  of  man  ?  Could  all  his  father's 
talk,  his  "shalls"  and  "shall  nots"  have  been  only 
political  bravado  to  keep  up  his  courage,  to  assure 
himself  of  his  political  orthodoxy,  rather  than  an 
attempt  to  coerce  his  Socialist  son  into  coming  his 
way?  As  these  questions  flashed  through  his  mind 
Custis  suddenly  felt  the  consciousness  of  his  power 
over  the  man,  and  with  such  force  as  to  stagger  him 
for  the  moment.  He  leaned  toward  his  father — the 
first  advance  he  had  made — and  asked  with  the 
simplicity  of  a  little  child: 

"Do  you  love  me?" 

Frederick  Huntington  laughed  happily,  the  art- 
lessness  of  the  youngster  thrilled  him  so. 

'T  love  you  so  it  makes  me  doubt  if  I  ever 
really  loved  anybody  before,"  he  replied.  "It  is  cer- 
tain you  are  the  only  being  I  have  ever  loved  better 
than  myself.  I  have  always  been  a  very  selfish 
fellow,  Custis." 

"What's  the  matter  with  your  turning  about 
and  starting  out  to  be  a  very  unselfish  fellow?  Just 
try  it,  and  the  sweetness,  the  gladness  you  will  get 
out  of  it  will  astonish  you.  You  will  never  desire 
to  backslide,  the  old  path  will  have  become  so 
joyless  by  contrast  with  the  new." 

Huntington  drew  the  boy's  hand  in  his,  and  the 
boy  did  not  withdraw  it  this  time. 

"If  you  love  me  so,  I  should  think  you  would 
want  me  to  love  you  a  little.    Do  you  want  me?" 

"I  would  give  the  world  for  one-tenth  of  the 
love  you  have  given  Pierre  Custis." 


240        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"Oh,  I  can  manage  to  spare  you  that  amount, 
perhaps  an  additional  tenth  or  two,  and  that,  too, 
without  your  bartering  the  planet.  But  you  must 
let  me  prescribe  the  conditions,  and  you  must  live 
up  to  the  letter  of  them.  First,  I  require  you  to 
give  up  this  Republican  foolishness.  I  mean  it.  You 
have  got  it  to  do.  I  can't  bear  to  see  you  sacrificing 
your  higher,  3^our  real  self,  as  you  are  doing,  and  I 
will  not  allow  you  to  do  it.  It  is  not  well  for  your 
soul.  Come  out  from  these  infidel  millionaires, 
these  atheistic  plutocrats  with  whom  you  train ! 
Cease  this  senseless  adoration,  this  blasphemous 
worship  of  gold  !  What  do  you  expect  to  gain  by  it? 
More  gold  undoubtedly,  but  less  love,  increasing 
hardness  of  heart,  spiritual  paralysis,  and,  finally, 
death,  with  God,  with  Love  so  far  in  the  distance 
as  to  make  it  almost  impossible  for  you  ever  to 
reach  them.  'W^hat  shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he  gain 
the  whole  world  and  lose  his  own  soul?'  Do  you 
know  that  Jesus  once  asked  that  awful  question — 
yes,  Jesus  Christ,  in  whose  name  you  rich  men  build 
vast  poems  in  stone?  Yet  you  trample  His  truths 
under  your  feet  and  brand  as  enemies  of  society  all 
who  recall  His  philosophy,  who  would  have  men 
the  world  over  to  live  as  brethren — the  purpose,  and 
no  other,  for  which  Jesus  came  into  the  world.  It 
is  the  saddest  thing  in  life  to  me — this  daily  denial 
of  the  Master  by  those  who  are  the  most  jealous  of 
His  deity." 

With  these  last  words  a  sadness  had  crept  into 
the  boy's  voice,  a  sadness  into  his  eyes,  showing 
how  strongly  he  felt  about  the  matter.  He  looked 
at  his  father,  as  if  inviting  the  latter  to  speak.  But 
Huntington  only  smiled,  preferring  to  hear  the 
boy  talk. 

"I  want  you  to  study  the  subject  of  socialism 
if  you  have  not  already  done  it.  You  will  find  in 
the  Socialist  ranks  all  the  strcnuosity  you  are  look- 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH        241 

ing  for — the  strenuosity  that  makes  for  brotherhood, 
not  the  kind  that  destroys  it.  There  you  can  have 
all  the  opportunity  you  want  to  get  rid  of  selfish- 
ness. There  you  can  find  your  life  in  losing  it  and 
prove,  as  you  can  do  nowhere  else,  the  truth  of  the 
divine  paradox  enunciated  by  Jesus.  There  you  can 
develop  a  robustness  of  soul  you  can  develop  in  no 
other  cause,  for  the  reason  that  all  other  causes, 
however  praiseworthy,  are  necessarily  narrow.  But 
socialism  is  as  broad  as  humanity  itself,  because  it 
takes  in  all  of  humanity,  it  is  humanity's  cause. 
Come  with  your  boys,  Pelham  and  me.  Take  your 
stand  with  us  like  a  man,  with  your  noble  wife, 
with  Virginia  and  with  Uncle  Pierre,  your  chum 
of  auld  lang  syne,  and  with  spirits  like  us,  who 
everywhere  are  bravely  giving  themselves  as  pio- 
neers to  the  work  of  bringing  in  a  new  earth.  Come, 
help  us  make  the  world  what  it  ought  to  be." 

Custis  had  risen  and  stood  before  his  father. 
As  he  ceased  speaking,  he  stooped  and  laid  a  hand 
on  each  shoulder. 

Huntington  looked  up  into  the  blue  eyes  that 
he  had  given  the  boy,  unashamed  of  the  moisture 
that  overran  his.    But  speech  was  beyond  him. 

'T  said  I  could  not  forgive  you,"  said  Custis. 
*T  told  you  that  your  day  of  atonement  was  past.  I 
recall  it  all.  I  can  forgive  you  and  at  the  same  time 
be  as  loyal  to  the  memory  of  my  mother.  But  you 
must  come  with  me;  you  must  work  with  me.  I 
want  you  very  much." 

For  answer  the  conquered  plutocrat,  his  heart 
all  melted,  put  his  arm  up  around  his  boy's  neck, 
drew  his  face  down  to  his  and  kissed  him.  And  the 
boy  kissed  him  in  return,  giving  him  full  forgiveness 
and  with  it  a  feeling  strangely  akin  to  love. 

"You  have  made  me  the  happiest  man  on  earth, 
my  son,"  murmured  Frederick  Huntington. 

He  rose,  still  holding  the  boy's  hand. 


242        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH. 

"I  will  think  of  these  things  you  have  talked 
about,"  he  said.  "Indeed,  I  have  been  thinking  of 
them  for  weeks,  ever  since  I  first  heard  you.  But 
there  are  other  times.  I'll  go  now.  I  have  kept  you 
out  of  bed  long  enough.  You  need.  rest.  Good- 
night, my  son." 

"Good-night." 

But  Huntington  stood  still,  looking  at  Custis, 
his  eyes  pathetic  with  appeal. 

"Can't  you  grant  me  another  word — a  word  I 
am  hungering  to  hear  from  your  lips?'' 

"Good-night — father,"  said  the  boy,  softly.  And 
then  they  separated.  And  Custis  removed  his  gar- 
ments and  slept  in  the  embrace  of  a  gladness  greater 
than  any  of  the  world's  generals  had  ever  felt  fol- 
lowing a  victorious  battle. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

"Awake,  Custis!  Awake,  boy!  Are  you  dead?" 

And  Pelham  rolled  his  brother  over  and  over 
until,  at  last,  Custis  opened  his  eyes. 

"What  time  is  it?"  he  asked, 

"Half-past  one." 

"Half-past  one?  What  criminal  indolence  to 
have  slept  the  morning  away  as  I  have  done !" 

"That  naturally  follows  when  you  write  the 
night  away.    What  time  did  you  go  to  bed?" 

"About  four  o'clock.  I  wrote  only  one  letter, 
however — a  letter  to  Uncle  Pierre." 

"But  that  was  equivalent  to  six  ordinary  let- 
ters.   How  many  pages  this  week?" 

"Only  thirty.  Did  you  go  to  church  this 
morning?" 

"Yes;  mother,  Virginia  and  I." 

"Why  didn't  you  awaken  me  to  go?" 

"Because  it  was  the  unanimous  vote  of  the 
household  that  sleep  was  better  for  you  than 
gospel." 

"Ordinarily,  yes ;  but  when  the  gospel  is  inter- 
preted by  Heber  Newton  I  vote  against  sleep  every 
time." 

"Dr.  Newton  is  all  right.  Well,  big  brother,  I 
am  ofif  on  the  next  train  to  speak  before  the  Brother- 
hood of  St.  Andrew  this  afternoon.  When  shall  I 
expect  you  back?" 

243 


244        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH. 

"A  little  before  sunrise.  I  speak  in  Jersey  City, 
you  know,  at  four  o'clock,  and  in  Newark  at  eight." 

Custis  took  Pelham's  hand. 

"I  have  something  very  pleasant  to  tell  you, 
Little  Billee— something  that  happened  after  you 
had  gone  to  sleep." 

"What  happened,  Custis?" 

"Wait  till  to-morrow.  You'll  enjoy  it  the 
more." 

And  Custis  sprang  out  of  bed. 

"I'll  have  to  move,"  said  Pelham.  "I  wish  you 
were  going  with  me.    Good-bye." 

"Good-bye." 

And  they  kissed  each  other,  confident  of  meet- 
ing again  on  the  morrow. 

******* 

"Aren't  those  tears  in  your  eyes,  Virginia?  Let 
me  see." 

Custis  caught  the  girl's  face,  and,  lifting  it, 
forced  her  eyes  to  meet  his. 

"Tears?  Yes,"  he  said,  kissing  her.  "What  is 
the  matter,  sweetheart?     Who  has  troubled  you?" 

"You  know  as  well  as  I  do." 

"I  know?    Have  I  done  anything?" 

"Oh,  Custis!  How  can  you  act  so  when  they 
say  such  wicked  things  of  you — things  that  are 
utterly  false?" 

"Of  me,  dear?  Who  says  them?  And  what 
are  the  things  they  say?" 

"Haven't  you  read  the  morning  papers?  Tyler 
told  me  he  had  taken  them  to  your  room.  You 
shouldn't  have  seen  them,  though,  if  I  had  only 
read  that  vile  article  in  time.  Oh,  these  degenerate 
newspapers !  There  is  nothing  too  base  for  them 
to  stoop  to  in  their  eagerness  to  serve  their  capi- 
talistic masters,  nothing  too  venomous  for  them  to 
say  of  those  who  stand  for  the  right.     Oh,  Custis! 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEVv   SOUTH.        245 

How  can  you  laugh  so?    You  have  no  idea  of  what 
they  have  said  about  you,  dear." 

"How  can  I  laugh  so?"  he  said.  "Simply  be- 
cause the  sweetest  girl  on  earth  loves  me  and  be- 
lieves in  me  so  that  it  makes  her  fighting  mad  if  a 
newspaper  dares  even  criticise  me.  You'll  have  to 
get  hardened  to  that  sort  of  thing,  sweetheart." 

"But  this  is  no  criticism,  Custis.  It  is  a  ma- 
licious slander." 

"What  do  they  say  I  have  done?  Whom  have 
I  robbed?  Whom  have  I  murdered?  How  many 
wives  have  I  deserted?" 

"They  represent  you  as  a  young  man  of  un- 
bounded egotism  and  selfishness." 

"That  is  certainly  a  grave  charge  against  a 
fellow  who  is  ever  harping  on  brotherhood.  Is  there 
nothing  specific  charged  against  me?" 

"You  are  charged " 

"With  what?" 

"With  having  brutally  deserted  Uncle  Pierre 
to  shift  for  himself  as  best  he  could  after  you  had 
got  all  you  could  out  of  him — after  you  had  bled 
him  of  his  last  cent  and  left  him  to  starve." 

"My  God!  I  deserted  Uncle  Pierre!  I  bled 
him  of  his  last  cent !  I  left  him  to  starve !  I  don't 
understand,  Virginia !" 

"He  is  pathetically  pictured  in  abject  want  and 
on  the  brink  of  the  grave." 

"Virginia !    Virginia !" 

"And  it  is  you — your  ambition,  your  extrava- 
gance, your  vanity — that  have  reduced  him  to  this 
pitiable  condition." 

"Oh,  my  God !" 

"It  is  all  false,  Custis!" 

"I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,  Virginia !  What 
else?" 

"While  you  are  preaching  the  brotherhood  of 
man,  the  gospel  of  love  in  the  North  and  living  on 


246        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH. 

the  fat  of  the  land,  the  article  goes  on  to  say,  Uncle 
Pierre,  your  best  friend,  your  more  than  father " 

''Yes,  yes  !    Go  on  !" 

"Has  been  forced  to  give  up  the  home  of  his 
fathers  to  satisfy  the  party  of  whom  he  borrowed 
money  with  which  to  send  you  through  college,  and 
but  for  an  old  ex-slave,  who  shares  his  cabin  v/ith 
him,  he  would  now  have  no  roof  above  his  head." 

"This  is  horrible,  Virginia!  Horrible!" 

And  the  poor  boy  threw  up  his  hands  and 
groaned  in  his  anguish. 

"It  is  a  horrible  lie.  Don't  you  hear  from  Uncle 
Pierre  regularly  every  week?  Aren't  his  letters  al- 
ways as  bright  and  optimistic  as  they  can  be? 
Didn't  you  give  me  to  read  only  yesterday  the  last 
one  he  wrote  you  ?" 

"Yes,  but  that  argues  nothing.  You  don't  know 
him  as  I  do.  Oh,  the  heroism  of  Pierre  Custis !  It 
is  a  thing  divine.  He  would  suffer  on  uncomplain- 
ingly, bravely — yes,  gladly — for  my  sake.  He 
would  never  let  me  know  it,  I  would  have  to  find 
it  out  for  myself.  And  this  I  intend  to  do  before  to- 
morrow night.  Virginia,  I  am  going  home  to  see  if 
this  thing  be  true ;  to  see  if  my  education  has  cost 
Uncle  Pierre  dear  old  Holly  Plill  and  brought  upon 
him  such  destitution  as  pictured.  If  I  find  it  true,  I 
shall  never  forgive  myself.  Of  course,  I  understand 
the  animus  that  prompted  the  papers  to  publish 
the  story.  It  was  to  paralyze  my  influence,  to  dam- 
age the  cause  of  socialism,  by  holding  me  up  as 
another  example  of  the  socialistic  agitator  who  fails 
to  live  his  gospel  of  altruism.  But  for  all  that,  I 
can't  help  feeling  that  the  story  is  essentially  true." 

"Custis!" 

"Yes,  Virginia.  My  conscience  has  not  been  at 
rest  for  a  long  time.  While  Uncle  Pierre  would 
never  tell  me  a  word  concerning  his  financial  mat- 
ters, protesting  always  that  he  was  able  to  do  all 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH.        247 

he  was  doing  for  me,  yet  I  suspected  that  his 
finances  were  in  a  shaky  condition.  I  ought  to  have 
called  a  halt.  I  ought  to  have  demanded  a  knowl- 
edge of  affairs  or  refused  to  come  to  Yale." 

"You  are  not  to  blame,  Custis,  and  you  shall 
not  reproach  yourself." 

She  drew  his  face  down  to  hers  and  kissed  his 
lips  again  and  again. 

"Put  the  blame  where  it  belongs — on  me,  first, 
then  on  Pelham  and  mother — yes,  and  on  Uncle 
Pierre,  too.  Really,  when  you  come  to  look  at  it, 
he  is  the  biggest  offender  of  the  lot.  You  are  the 
only  guiltless  one." 

"I  am  not." 

"You  are,  I  say.  Don't  contradict  me.  It  was  a 
sort  of  conspiracy  on  our  part.  We  dragged  you 
into  it.  Indeed,  the  half-heartedness  with  which  you 
yielded  exasperated  me." 

"I  don't  want  you  to  make  any  excuses  for  me, 
Virginia.  I  won't  be  exonerated.  I  am  the  only 
one  to  blame.  I  allowed  myself  to  be  persuaded  into 
what  I  felt  to  be  wrong.  I  turned  from  the  voice  of 
conscience  ;  I  followed  the  dictates  of  ambition.  And 
now  you  know  the  consequences.  But  the  mischief 
is  done,  and  all  I  can  do  now  is  to  go  to  work  and 
undo  it,  if  possible — to  get  Uncle  Pierre  out  of  the 
hole  into  which  I  have  put  him." 

"Custis !" 

She  put  her  hand  on  his  arm  and  looked  up  into 
his  eyes. 

"What  is  it,  Virginia?  You  have  something  to 
say,  sweetheart,  yet  you  hesitate." 

"Let  me  help  you,  Custis,  won't  you?"  she  said, 
haltingly.  "I  can  get  Uncle  Pierre  out  of  the  hole 
into  which  his  love  for  you  has  put  him.  I  can 
restore  Holly  Hill  to  him.  Nothing  would  make  me 
happier  than  to  put  liim  back  into  his  old  home." 

He  looked  away,  shaking  his  head  slowly. 


248        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"Have  I  wounded  you,  dear?"  she  questioned. 
"I  didn't  mean  to  do  it,  Custis.  I  love  you  so,  I  love 
Uncle  Pierre  so,  that's  why — I — I " 

He  brought  her  face  to  his,  and  drank  deeply 
of  the  warm,  moist  velvetiness  of  her  eyes. 

"I  know  it,  darling-.  I  understand,  I  appreciate 
your  magnanimity.  But  it  is  I  who  have  brought 
Uncle  Pierre  to  where  he  is,  and  it  is  I — nobody 
else — who  must  rescue  him  from  his  pitiable  plight. 
And  I  will  do  it  or  die  in  the  effort !" 

He  went  to  his  room,  and,  hastily  packing  his 
valise,  returned,  to  find  Mrs.  Huntington  with  her 
daughter. 

"And  you  are  going  home,  Virginia  tells  me?" 
said  the  elder  lady. 

"Yes,  ]\Irs.  Huntington,  to  see  if  that  harrowing 
story  be  true." 

"I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it,"  declared  the  lady, 
emphatically.  "It  is  criminal  of  the  papers  to  publish 
such  falsehoods,  and  they  should  be  made  to  suffer 
for  it.    My  poor  child  !   My  big  old  Dixie  boy  !" 

She  took  his  hand  and  swept  it  with  her  lips, 
loving  him  as  she  loved  her  own  children,  and  the 
youth,  ever  responsive  to  a  caress,  gave  her  a  warm, 
nestling  kiss,  loving  her  as  he  had  loved  his  mother. 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

Custis  found  very  few  loiterers — and  they  were 
negroes — about  the  station  when  he  arrived  at  Elk 
Bluff  the  next  afternoon.  He  hastened  into  the  little 
buff  building  to  obtain  the  denial  or  confirmation  of 
the  story  that  had  brought  him  home ;  but  Mr. 
Woodson,  who  had  been  agent  for  a  decade  or  more, 
was  gone,  and  in  his  place  was  a  boy  guilty  of  a 
gold  tooth  and  excessive  fatness. 

"Where  is  Mr.  Woodson?"  asked  Custis. 

"Chucked  up  his  job  and  gone  to  storekeeping 
over  in  Powhatan." 

The  young  telegrapher  fixed  his  eyes  of  robin- 
egg  blue  upon  Custis,  scrutinizing  him  from  hair 
to  toe. 

"I  know  you,  I'm  sure  of  it,"  he  said.  "You  go 
to  Richmond  college,  don't  you?" 

"I  did  until  last  June." 

"You  were  the  best  all-round  athlete  there? 
Your  name  is  Christian?" 

"That's  my  name.    Are  you  from  Richmond?" 

"Yes.  My  name  is  Cardoza — Beauregard  Car- 
doza.  You've  heard  of  Cardoza  Brothers,  tobac- 
conists? Well,  they  arc  cousins  of  mine.  I  wish 
I  had  half  the  coin  they  can  count.  I  wouldn't  be 
here.    No,  siree !" 

The  speaker's  fat  fingers  sought  the  corn-col- 
ored down  above  his  mouth,  which  made  Custis 
think,  somehow,  of  a  blonde  caterpillar. 

249 


250        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH. 

"Lieutenant  Cardoza  of  the  Howitzers  is  a 
cousin  of  mine,  too.  Tony  is  the  devil  after  women. 
He  is  a  good-looking  son  of  a  gun,  and  he  dresses 
like  hell.  Oh,  he  is  a  sport,  all  right!  Have  a 
cigarette  ?" 

"No,  I  thank  you." 

"Don't  you  smoke?" 

"No.  Hello,  Garfield !"  as  'Relius's  boy  appeared 
in  the  doorway.    "Is  your  father  here?" 

"Yas,  suh.    He  out  doahs  dar." 

'Relius,  having  disposed  of  his  ties,  had  turned 
his  team  in  the  direction  of  home.  He  gave  a  cry 
of  joy  at  sight  of  Custis,  and  in  his  eagerness  to 
reach  the  boy  ran  violently  into  the  arms  of  old 
Aunt  Tulip  Taliaferro. 

"Marse  Pierre  gwine  to  git  well  now !"  he 
chuckled. 

"It  is  true,  then,  that  he  is  ill?" 

"He  jes'  kin  creep  round,  he  so  crippled  up  wid 
rheumatism." 

"'Relius!    'Relius!" 

"Dat's  so.  I  has  to  dress  him  and  undress  him 
jes'  like  he  was  a  baby." 

"JMy  poor  Uncle  Pierre!"  tears  deluging  his 
eyes.  "  'Relius,  old  man,  tell  me :  Is  it  true — about 
Holly  Hill?" 

"What  busybody  done  writ  you  'bout  it?" 

"Somebody,  evidently  an  enemy,  telegraphed  it 
to  the  New  York  papers.     It  is  true,  then?" 

"Too  true  for  dis  nigger.  'Twas  de  terriblest 
day  whar  I  ever  seed  when  de  old  place  was  sold 
and  all  de  things  'long  wid  it.  De  day  dey  took  me 
to  de  penitentiary  warn't  nowhars  'longside  it,  for 
I  sort  of  'served  dat,  but  po'  Marse  Pierre  ain't 
'served  no  sich  hound  dog  treatment  like  he  got." 

"But  Shylock  must  ha^'e  his  pound  of  flesh," 
said  Custis,  bitterly.    "God  speed  the  day  when  the 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH.    251 

usurer's  occupation  will  be  gone !   Are  you  ready  to 
start?"  he  asked,  after  a  moment. 

"Yes;  jump  in.  Garfield,  s'pose  you  git  up  dar 
'hind  us,  son." 

And  when  the  wagon  moved  ofif,  Custis  re- 
sumed his  questioning: 

"When  did  this  thing  happen,  'Relius?" 
"More'n  a  month  ago ;  de  fust  of  October." 
"And,  like  the  dear,  true  fellow  you  are,  you 
took  him  in  out  of  the  cold  ?" 

"Dat  warn't  nuffin  for  me  to  do  arter  all  he 
done  for  me.  Didn't  he  gin  me  my  home,  de  house 
and  de  land?  'Twas  mouty  little  to  spar  him  a  room 
in  it.  And  didn't  he  save  me  fum  de  gallers?  I  sho 
would  hung  but  for  Marse  Pierre.  And  den  you 
talk  to  me  'bout  takin'  Marse  Pierre  in  outen  de 
cold  like  I  done  sumfin  mouty  great!  Git  up  heah, 
mule!" 

"Do  you  think  it  was  treating  me  fairly  to  keep 
me  in  ignorance  of  all  this?"  asked  Custis. 

"  'Twas  Marse  Pierre's  doings.  He  beg  ev'ry- 
body  he  see,  for  Gawd's  sake,  not  to  writ  you  'bout 
it.  He  sez  he  couldn't  bar  to  have  you  upsot.  I  is 
pow'ful  glad,  I  is,  dat  you  done  come  home.  If  you 
hadn't  you'd  had  to  come  to  his  fun'al  'fo' 
Christmas." 

"He  is  not  so  bad  ofif  as  that,  really?" 
"You   won't   know   him,   I    lay;   he   done   fall 
oE  so." 

"  'Relius !  You  are  exaggerating  the  thing!" 
"I  hope  to  Gawd  I  is,  but  you'll  see  for  yo'sef. 
I  wouldn't  werry,  though,  ole  man.  Marse  Pierre 
he  gwine  come  round  all  right  agin.  You  gwine 
make  him  do  it.  If  he  kin  jes'  feast  his  two  eyes  on 
you  he'll  soon  git  well  agin.  So  long  as  he  kin  see 
you  and  hear  you  he  kin  stand  de  loss  of  de  ole  place 
and  de  loss  of  everything  else,  but  de  one  thing  he 
can't  stand  is  de  loss  of  de  little  chap.     You  jes' 


252        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

oughts  to  see  how  he  love  yo'  letters.  Tuesday  is  de 
day  I  always  gits  yo'  letter  fum  de  pos'office,  but 
long  'bout  Sadday  he  'gins  to  wish  for  Tuesday, 
and  by  Monday  he's  impatienter  dan  a  chile  is  on 
Christmas  Eve  lookin'  for  Christmas  Day  to  come.  I 
bet  you  he  don't  sleep  a  wink  Monday  night,  he  so 
crazy  for  Tuesday.  And  when  I  bring  him  de  letter 
he  laugh  and  he  cry  at  de  same  time,  he  so  happy. 
He  read  it  over  and  over  ev'ry  day  through  de  week 
tell  de  nex'  letter  come.  Dey's  all  put  away,  yo' 
letters  is,  jes'  like  dey  was  preciouser  dan  gold.  Lawd 
Gawd !  How  dat  man  do  love  you,  boy !" 

"Don't  tell  me  any  more,  'Relius!  I  can't 
bear  it." 

For  a  mile  or  more  they  rode  in  absolute  silence. 

"Virginia  is  well?"  said  Custis,  at  length  break- 
ing the  stillness. 

"She  all  right.  I  reckon  we'll  git  to  de  school 
house  'bout  de  time  school  break  up," 

"Why  isn't  Garfield  at  school?" 

"Mister  Jeems  Pryor  he  took  sick  dis  mawnin* 
and  wouldn't  heah  de  chillen  deir  books.  But  I 
lay  Mister  Jeems  he  ain't  too  sick  to  'lectioneer  for 
de  Dimicrats  tomorrer." 

"I  presume  everything  white  is  for  Bryan,  and 
everything  black  for  McKinley?" 

"Heah  one  nigger  ain't  for  no  McKinley.  I  is 
mean  enough,  Gawd  knows.  I  done  even  kilt  a 
man,  but  I  ain't  never  voted  no  Republican  ticket 
yit." 

"That  is  something  to  be  proud  of.  'Relius.  Say, 
whom  would  you  vote  for  to-morrow  if  you  were  not 
disqualified?" 

"You  know  well  'nough  who  dis  nigger'd  vote 
for?" 

"Mr.  Bryan?" 

"Go  'long,  boy,  wid  yo'  Mr.  Bryan !" 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH.        253 

"Mr.  Woolley,  then?  No?  Oh,  I  know!  Eugene 
V.  Debs?" 

"Dat's  de  gen'man  whar'd  git  my  vote." 

"My  coming  home  will  give  Debs  one  more  vote 
— that  is,  if  our  Democratic  friends  are  honest 
enough  to  count  it." 

The  sun  had  gone  down  when  they  reached  the 
school  house.  The  day's  session  was  over,  and 
teacher  and  pupils  were  gone  save  a  trio  of  boys 
loitering  around  the  building. 

"Virginia  cannot  have  gone  far,"  said  Custis. 
"Are  there  no  other  children  going  her  way?" 

"Narry  one." 

"Don't  you  think  it  a  long,  lonely  walk  for 
the  child?" 

"It  sho  is;  but  she  don't  mind  it." 

"She  is  a  brave  little  thing,  I  know.  But  it  isn't 
a  question  of  her  bravery.  What  could  she  do  if 
she  were  assailed  by  some  big  brute?" 

"Marse  Pierre  he  werry  'bout  de  same  thing. 
He  didn't  want  her  to  go  to  school  in  de  fust  place, 
'cause  de  way  so  lonesome.  He  sez  he  could  learn 
her  jes'  as  much  at  home,  like  he  done  las'  yeah; 
but  Miss  Clara  Richardson  she  lack  one  more  chile 
to  make  de  number  for  a  school  and  she  beg  Marse 
Pierre  so  hard  to  send  Virginia  he  let  de  chile  go. 
You  know  how  Marse  Pierre  is.  He  didn't  want 
Miss  Clara  to  lose  her  school.  Hi!  Who  dat 
screamin'  so?" 

"It  is  the  cry  of  a  child !  Oh,  God !  Can  it  be 
Virginia !" 

The  two  men  sprang  to  the  ground.  As  they 
did  so,  a  big  black  brute  dashed  across  the  road 
where  it  made  a  turn,  and  plunged  into  the  woods 
on  'Relius's  side. 

"You  damned  black  scoundrel !"  cried  the  mu- 
latto, and,  enraged,  he  flew  through  the  woods  in 
pursuit  of  the  fiend. 


254       REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH. 

Custis,  thinking  only  of  his  little  sister,  rushed 
frantically  around  the  bend  in  the  road,  calling  her 
name.  x\  second  or  two  brought  him  to  the  child, 
sobbing,  trembling,  close  to  collapse  from  terror. 

"Brother's  little  angel!" 

He  caught  her  up  in  his  arms,  kissing  her 
wildly,  and  then  he  fell  to  crying  with  the  little 
one,  her  sobs  hurt  him  so. 

"A — great — big — black — man,"  she  tried  to  tell 
him,  "he  grabbed  me — and— put — his — hand — over 
—my  mouth!  Oh,  Brother!  Brother!"  flinging  her 
arms  convulsively  around  his  neck.  "Don't  let  him 
— that  big  black  man — hurt  me !" 

"I  won't  let  him  hurt  you,  darling.  There,  don't 
cry !  Brother  wouldn't  let  all  the  big  black  men  in 
the  world  harm  a  hair  of  your  dear  little  head." 

He  picked  up  her  reader  and  pad,  which  she  had 
dropped  in  her  fright,  and  with  her  in  his  arms  went 
back  to  the  wagon.  Safe  in  her  brother's  embrace, 
calmed  by  his  caresses,  the  little  one  was  herself 
again  when  'Relius  returned,  panting,  perspiring, 
bloody. 

"I  cot  him !  I  cot  him  in  dem  pines  down  on 
ole  Mr.  Dan'l  Johnson's  low  grounds,  and  if  I 
didn't  gin  him  de  wust " 

But  Custis  would  hear  no  more  of  the  story 
where  his  little  sister  was.  He  wanted  her  to  forget 
the  frightful  affair  if  possible.  He  would  have  liked 
to  forget  it  himself. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

No  tranquil  joys  on  earth  I  know, 

No  peaceful,  sheltering  dome; 
This  world's  a  wilderness  of  woe; 

This  world  is  not  my  home. 

So  sang  Cindie,  feeling  every  word  of,  the  old 
hymn,  as  she  stood  in  the  November  twilight  taking 
down  the  clothes  she  had  washed  and  hung  out  to  dry 
in  the  forenoon.  The  line  stretched  across  the  spot 
where  Rutherford  Demarest  had  fallen  in  his  death 
throes.  Seven  times  since  the  terrible  tragedy  the 
marigolds  and  four-o'clocks  had  sprung  up,  blossomed 
and  faded.  But  the  old  woman's  thoughts  were  not 
of  that  unfortunate  affair  at  this  moment.  She  was 
thinking  of  her  failing  master  sitting  so  patiently  be- 
fore the  fire  in  the  little  log  abode  he  now  called  home, 
denied  the  comforts  to  which  he  had  always  been  ac- 
customed, "living  and  faring  like  a  nigger,"  as  she 
phrased  it.  She  was  thinking  of  the  "big  house"  upon 
the  hill,  closed  and  awaiting  a  tenant,  of  the  dear  old 
home  wrenched  from  them  by  a  merciless  money- 
lender. She  was  thinking,  too,  of  "de  chile"  away  up 
in  Yankee  land,  who  had  innocently  been  the  cause  of 
it  all.  "But  he  ain't  to  blame,  God  love  him !"  she  ex- 
claimed. "If  he  knowed  'bout  dis,  he'd  jump  on  de 
fust  steam  cars  and  come  'long  home.  He'd  work  his 
finger  nails  off,  'fo'  he'd  let  Marse  Pierre  suffer  for 
anything.  He  ain't  never  wanted  to  go  to  dat  ole 
Yankee  college,  noways.  He  ain't  even  wanted  to 
finish  his  larnin'  down  in  town,  'cause  he  feared  Marse 

255 


256        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUllI. 

Pierre  couldn't  'ford  it.  Tis  all  Marsc  Pierre's  faiit. 
But  he  love  de  chile  so,  he  do,  he  ain't  thinkin'  'bout 
nuffin'  else."  > 

She  wiped  her  eyes  with  her  apron,  the  tears  were 
falling  so  fast. 

"Did  I  think  I'd  ever  be  livin'  in  dis  cramped-up, 
niggerfied  way  like  I  is  now?     'Twon't  be  long  'fo^ 
some  common  white  trash  wid  mo'  money  dan  raisin' 
will  be  flouncin'  demsevs  up  yander  at  our  place.     But 
even  dat  ain't  werrvin'  of  me'  like  IMarse  Pierre's  bein' 
so  po'ly.     Dat's  de  part  whar's  killin'  dis  nigger— to 
see  him  dying  day  by  day.     If  he  was  jest  well  and 
sperrited  like  he  used  to  be  I  could  bar  all  de  res'.    We 
mout  go  to  town  and  'gin  life  over  agin.     He  ain't 
no  ole  man;  he  young  yit,  Marse  Pierre  is.     But  he 
done  wore  hisse'f  out  doin'  and  tendin'  to  udder  folks. 
He  ain't  never  had  no  time  to  think  of  hisself  or  his 
own  health,  and  dis  what  done  come  of  it.    And  some 
of  dese  'low-down  white  trash  is  got  de  brazenness  to 
say  'tis  de  Lawd's  doings,  de  Lawd's  jedgments  sent 
on  him  for  his  unbelief.     But  ain't  none  of  dem  tellin' 
me  dat.    If  dey'd  pay  Marse  Pierre  what  dey  owe  him, 
dese  heah  jedgments  of  de  Lawd  whar  dey  know  so 
much  about  wouldn't  've  come  on  him.    If  he  could  git 
jes'  half  de  money  whar  folks  owe  him.  he'd  be  livin' 
up  yander  in  de  big  house  yit.     Bar's  dat  old  Amcn- 
cordner  hypocrite,  dat  ole  fox-faced,  'oman-voiccd  devil 
of  a  Jubal  Jones,  whar  bin  owin'  Marse  Pierre  six 
hund'ed  dollars  for  more'n  sixteen  yeahs.     He  come 
to  Marse  Pierre,  mos'  cryin'  dat  he  was  gwine  to  lose 
his  home,  and  Marse  Pierre  lent  him  de  money,  to  be 
sho',  he  dat  free-hearted,  and   ain't  never  ax  him  a 
Gawd's  cent  of  interest,  'cause  Marse  Pierre  hold  to 
de  doctrine  dat  interest  and  stealin'  is  de  same  thing. 
And  jes'  'cause  Marse  Pierre  ax  him  kind-like  to  try 
and  let  him  have  part  of  de  money  so's  he  could  meet 
his  interest  on  de  money  whar  he  done  borrowed,  dat 
hound  Jubal  Jones  want  to  fight  a  duel  wid  Marse 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         257 

Pierre,  his  pride  done  bin  hurt  so.  And  he  call  Marse 
Pierre  all  sorts  of  low-down  names.  He  sez  Marse 
Pierre  is  agin  law  and  order,  dat  he  want  to  'vide  up 
what  rich  folks  got  wid  po'  white  trash  and  niggers, 
dat  he  don't  believe  in  no  honest  dollar.  I  'spec  ole 
Jubal  done  put  so  much  honesty  in  his  dollar  dat  he 
squez  all  out  of  hisse'f.  I  wonder  what  make  dat  little 
thing  so  late  coming  fum  school  ?  But,  shucks !  I 
ain't  gwine  werry  'bout  it.  I  got  'nough  to  werry  'bout 
now,  let  'lone  runnin'  down  de  road  to  hug  and  kiss 
mo'  trouble  'fo'  it  gits  to  de  house.  I  jes'  gwine  to 
wait  till  it  gits  heah,  and  den  I  ain't  gwine  stump  my 
toe  to  run  to  de  do'!    Hi,  dog!  Whar  you  come  fum?" 

She  stooped  and  gave  the  canine  visitor  a  rough 
caress. 

"One  of  Miss  'Ria's  ole  hounds !"  she  exclaimed. 
"Look  heah,  dog,  whar  yo'  meat  done  slip  to?  Does 
you  keep  Lent  too?  I  'clar  yo'  ole  bones  dey  jab  out 
so  dey  make  my  hand  sore.  I  great  mind  to  chain  you 
in  de  corn  house  dar  and  use  yo'  ribs  for  a  washboard. 
Dar's  dat  catfish  mouf  'Relius  comin'  now !" 

Her  arms  filled  with  clothes,  she  stood  awaiting 
the  wagon,  which  presently  drew  up  before  the  gate. 

"Fo'  de  Lawd  whar  made  me  and  saved  me !  Dar's 
de  chile !" 

The  clothes  fell  from  her  arms,  and  through  the 
gate  ran  the  old  creature,  love  lending  fieetness  to  her 
feet. 

"Mammy's  boy!"  she  cried.  "Who  tole  you, 
honey,  'bout  what  done  happen  ?" 

"The  little  bird  given  to  gossip,  which  you  didn't 
think  worth  while  to  take  into  your  conspiracy  against 
me.  Aren't  you  all  ashamed  of  the  manner  in  which 
you  have  treated  me?" 

"Mammy  ain't  had  no  hand  in  it,  honey.  If  you 
wants  to  pick  a  crow  wid  anybody,  Marse  Pierre  he  de 
one  to  pick  it  wid." 


258        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

The  largest  room  of  the  three  in  'Relius's  httle 
abode  was  occupied  by  Dr.  Custis  and  Virginia,  a 
screen  conceaHng  the  Httle  girl's  cot. 

The  physician  sat  looking  into  the  fire,  his  back 
toward  the  door.  Unobserved,  Custis  stood  a  moment 
watching  him,  his  heart  torn  with  anguish  because  of 
the  wasted  form,  the  forlorn  attitude  of  the  one  whom 
he  loved  so. 

"What  can  keep  Virginia  so  late?"  mused  the 
Doctor,  aloud.  "There  is  no  sense  in  keeping  a  little 
thing  like  that  housed  up  in  school  all  day." 

Noiselessly  Custis  approached  him,  enwreathing 
him  with  his  arm.     , 

"Uncle  Pierre!     Ivly  Uncle  Pierre!" 

"Who — who  is  that?"  cried  the  invalid,  with  a 
joyous  start. 

"It  is  your  little  chap,"  answered  the  boy,  in  his 
softest  voice. 

"My  boy  !    My  world!" 

The  once  strong  arms  closed  around  the  youngster, 
while  the  latter,  abandoning  himself  to  his  love,  kissed 
the  invalid  again  and  again. 

"Can  I  be  dreaming  all  this?"  asked  the  Doctor, 
bewildered.  "Can  it  be  true  that  he  has  come  home 
again — my  little  chap,  I  mean?  It  can't  be  so.  I 
dream  so  often — every  time  I  fall  asleep — that  he  is 
with  me ;  but  I  always  awake  to  find  I  have  been 
dreaming.  I  wish  it  were  true,  though.  Oh,  I  want 
to  see  him  so — so  much !" 

"It  is  true.  Uncle  Pierre !  You  are  not  dreaming 
this  time.  I  am  with  you  in  flesh  and  blood,  and  I  am 
going  to  stay  with  you — always.  I  will  never,  never 
leave  you  again !" 

"But    your    education,   son — how    about    that?" 
•  asked  the  physician,  his  mind  clear  again. 

"Damn  the  education!"  thundered  the  boy.  "There 
is  somctiiing  greater  than  education.  It  is  loz'c! .  You 
taught  me  that  it  is  the  greatest  thing  in  the  worlds 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         259 

the  only  thing  worth  Hving  for.  And  you,  more  than 
anybody  I  have  ever  known,  have  exemphfied  it  in 
your  Hfe.  What  have  you  not  done  for  me?  What 
have  you  not  sacrificed  ?  All !  all !  And  what  have  I 
done  for  you?     Nothing!     Nothing!" 

And  Custis  flung  himself,  sobbing,  on  the  floor, 
between  the  Doctor's  legs,  laying  his  head  on  his  lap, 
as  had  been  his  wont  in  childhood,  when  some  boyish 
grief  had  lacerated  his  tender  little  heart. 

"Don't  weep  so,  son!"  cried  Dr.  Custis,  stroking 
the  boy's  hair. 

But  Custis  only  sobbed  more  wildly. 

"Custis,  son,  don't — don't !"  lifting  the  youngster's 
face  and  kissing  his  brow.  "I  never  saw  you  do  so  be- 
fore." 

"I  can't  help  it,  Uncle  Pierre  I  My  heart  is 
broken  to  see  what  I  have  brought  you  to." 

"It  is  all  right,  it  is  all  right,  son.  I  don't  mind  it. 
Home,  friends,  health,  everything  may  go,  so  long  as 
you  are  left.  With  you,  I  am  content,  I  am  happy. 
Without  you,  I  should  be  lonely  even  with  God." 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  all  this  last  summer, 
Uncle  Pierre?"  asked  Custis,  after  a  silence  lasting 
minutes.     "You  knew  what  was  coming?" 

"But  I  thought  I  could  avert  it.  I  lived  in  hopes 
of  patching  up  matters  for  a  time — till  you  were 
through  Yale,  at  any  rate." 

"If  I  had  known  it,  I  would  never  have  left  you. 
I  could  not  have  prevented  the  loss  of  Holly  Hill,  but 
I  could  have  taken  you  to  Richmond  or  some  other 
place  and  gone  to  work  for  you.  You  might  at  least 
have  been  spared  this  intolerable  sort  of  existence. 
Why  have  you  treated  me  in  this  manner?  Didn't  I 
promise  you  the  night  of  my  graduation  that  you 
should  never  tread  your  Gethsemane  alone — that  I'd 
be  with  you  when  you  came  to  it?  And  you — you  re- 
fused to  let  me  go  with  you ;  you  spurned  my  comrade- 
ship." 


26o   REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"Aly  boy !    My  life !" 

"And  your  life  I  will  be!  I  have  youth,  health, 
strength — all  in  abundance.  And  you,  too,  shall  have 
them,  because  I  have  them.  You  shall  not  be  ill  where 
I  am.  Who  taught  me  the  gospel  of  health  along  with 
the  gospel  of  love?  Who  was  it  that  used  to  declare 
that  health  is  as  contagious  as  disease.  Thou  art  the 
man !  Surely,  you  have  not  recanted  these  teachings 
of  your  earlier  years?  You  shall  not  if  you  are  in- 
clined. You  shall  grow  young  and  strong  again.  Why 
not?  You  are  just  forty-five — forty-five  last  Friday. 
Why,  you  are  a  young  man !" 

"Yes,  comparatively.  But,  somehow,  I  have  gone 
all  to  pieces  lately,  son.  I  fear  I  am  on  the  brink  of 
dissolution." 

"You  are  not,  unless  you  will  it  so.  And  I  forbid 
your  willing  it  so.  'Because  I  live  you  shall  live 
also!'  Jesus  said  that,  you  remember,  to  his  disciples 
with  regard  to  the  life  to  come.  I  say  it  to  you  relative 
to  the  life  that  is.  I  will  take  you  in  hand  at  once.  I 
will  scatter  your  rheumatism,  I  will  bring  you  out  of 
your  invalidism.  I  will  breathe  back  into  you  all  your 
old-time  health  and  vigor.  You  shall  know  again  the 
elasticity,  the  joy  of  youth.  You  shall  become  as  a  boy 
once  more!" 

Dr.  Custis  smiled  wistfully,  but  he  was  feeling 
stronger  and  younger  because  of  the  boy's  words,  be- 
cause of  the  boy's  presence.  There  was  inspiration ; 
there  was  healing  in  the  youngster's  atmosphere. 

"How  are  my  other  children,  Virginia  and  Pel- 
ham?"  asked  the  invalid,  after  awhile. 

"They  are  in  superb  condition.  By  the  way,  \^ir- 
ginia  sent  you  some  violets." 

Custis  sprang  to  his  feet  and  went  into  the  next 
room,  where  he  had  left  the  flowers. 

Mammy  was  bending  over  the  fire. 

"We    living    mouty  po'  dcse    days,  honey,"  she 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         261 

apologized,  turning  over  a  corn  pone  in  a  skillet.     "1 
hates  to  sot  'fo'  you  sech  a  supper  as  we  got." 

"I  can  eat  it  if  Uncle  Pierre  can." 

"  'Tain't  good  enough  for  him.  'Tain't  good 
enough  for  a  nigger,  let  'lone  white  folks.  We's  done 
had  hawgs  'fo'  dis  whar'd  turn  up  deir  nose  at  de 
vittles  whar  we  bin  bleeged  to  eat  sense  dat  old  squint- 
eyed  usurer  devil  come  and  stole  our  home  fum  us. 
Does  you  know  what  we  got  for  supper,  honey  ?  Nuffin 
but  corn  bread  and  milk,  dat's  all;  not  a  dust  of  fiour 
in  de  house ;  de  las'  gin  out  Sunday.  We  is  got  a  little 
bacon,  but  you  don't  eat  no  meat.  And  you  ain't  never 
had  no  hankerin'  arter  corn  bread." 

"I  can  acquire  a  liking  for  it,"  returned  Custis, 
with  an  optimistic  smile. 

He  walked  to  where  'Relius  had  put  his  baggage 
and  picked  up  a  tin  bucket. 

"Here  are  some  oysters  I  bought  in  Richmond  for 
Uncle  Pierre,"  he  said,  removing  the  top. 

Cindie  clapped  her  hands  delightedly. 

"Dem's  the  only  things  whar  he's  craved  sense  he 
bin  so  po'ly.  No  longer  dan  dis  mawnin'  he  sez  to  me 
so  wistful-like,  'Mammy,  does  you  know  what  Pd  like 
to  have?'  'What,  honey?'  I  axed.  'A  good  oyster 
stew,'  sez  he.  And  I  could've  bust  right  out  cryin',  he 
eat  so  patient-like  all  de  ole  pig-trough  vittles  whar  I 
sot  'fo'  him.  How  many  of  dese  things  did  you  git, 
for  Gawd's  sake?" 

"A  gallon." 

"Custis,  my  son,  where  are  you?"  called  the 
Doctor. 

"I  am  coming,  Uncle  Pierre." 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 

Custis  slipped  quietly  out  of  bed  with  the  first 
flush  of  dawn,  and  joyfully  w^ent  through  his  morning 
exercises.  With  the  concluding  stunt  came  'Relius 
bearing  vessels  of  water,  and  the  boy  at  once  proceeded 
with  his  ablution,  while  the  mulatto  knelt  before  the 
fireplace  to  start  a  blaze.  When  'Relius  left,  the  fire 
was  leaping  inches  above  the  andirons,  diffusing  a 
pleasant  warmth  through  the  room.  Custis,  his  bath 
ended,  looked  toward  the  bed,  where  Dr.  Custis, 
awakened,  lay  quietly,  lovingly  watching  his  every 
movement. 

"How  do  you  feel  this  morning,  Uncle  Pierre?'' 
he  asked,  hurrying  to  the  invalid's  side. 

"Better  than  I  have  felt  in  a  long  time,  son.  I 
hardly  felt  any  pain  through  the  night." 

"Isn't  that  joyful  to  hear?"  cried  the  youngster, 
kissing  .the  elder  man  for  very  gladness.  "You'll  come 
around  all  right.     I  not  only  feel  it — /  kiwzv  it!" 

The  Doctor  smiled  happily.  There  was  positive 
strength  in  the  boy's  presence. 

"There  is  a  little  poem  by  Mrs.  Preston,"  he  said, 
"in  which  she  speaks  of  having  'lain  close  beside  the 
pallid  angel  Pain.'  I,  too,  have  had  him  for  a  bed- 
fellow, night  after  night  for  weeks.  But  last  night  the 
pink-cheeked,  warm-blooded  angel.  Health,  came  and 
laid  himself  beside  me.  That's  the  secret  of  my  feeling 
better  this  morning." 

"And  your  new  old  bed-fellow  is  conic  to  stay. 

a6a 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         263 

'Pallid  Pain'  shall  never  be  your  bed-fellow  again.  Ah, 
this  poor,  wasted  arm!"  and  Custis  tenderly  took  the 
emaciated  member  in  his  hand.  "Do  you  know  I  was 
close  to  crying  last  night  when,  in  undressing  you,  I 
saw  how  you  had  fallen  away  ?" 

"You  did  cry,  my  son.  I  felt  your  tears  on  my 
arm,  and  they  were  to  my  stiffness  as  no  ointment,  no 
massaging  could  have  been.  There  was  the  healing  of 
love  in  their  moisture." 

"Poor,  poor  arm,  once  so  strong !"  exclaimed  Cus- 
tis. "But  it  shall  not  remain  like  this.  It  shall  become 
again  the  dear  old  arm  of  former  days — an  arm  pleas^ 
ant  to  look  upon  because  of  its  strength.  It  shall  be- 
come like  this  arm,  like  your  little  chap's,"  laying  his 
Herculean  arm,  billowy  with  muscle,  alongside  the 
Doctor's.  "Do  you  want  to  get  up  ?  Yes  ?  Well,  wait 
till  I  slip  into  my  clothes  and  then  I'll  take  my  baby 
up  and  put  him  into  his.  My !  Hov/  much  brighter 
you  look !  There  is  a  hint  of  pink  in  your  cheeks.  On 
my  honor,  Uncle  Pierre !" 

He  skipped  away,  and  breaking  softly  into  song, 
plunged  into  his  clothes.  When  he  was  dressed,  he 
lifted  Doctor  Custis  out  of  bed,  and,  leading  him  to  the 
fire,  sat  him  down. 

"Oh,  how  gentle  you  are !"  said  the  sick  man,  with 
a  grateful  smile.  "You  don't  hurt  me  at  all.  'Relius 
hurts  me  a  little  sometimes.  I'm  not  complaining.  You 
understand  ?" 

"Yes,  I  understand." 

"He  doesn't  mean  to  hurt  me,  poor  boy,  and  I  try 
not  to  let  him  know  it,  but  I  can't  help  crying  out  some- 
times." 

Yes." 

"And  I  loathe  myself  for  my  weakness.  It  seem.s 
to  hurt  the  poor  fellow  to  know  he  has  unintentionally 
given  me  pain.  You  know  how  he  loves  us.  What  a 
glorious  sunrise !     Look,  son !" 


264        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"I  was  about  to  call  your  attention  to  it,  Uncle 
Pierre." 

"Truly,  an  ideal  election  day.  Are  you  going  to 
vote  early?" 

"As  soon  as  I  can  get  to  the  polls.  I  am  going  to 
Richmond  on  the  afternoon  train,  you  know.  So  I'll 
have  to  start  for  Elk  Bluff  immediately  after  luncheon." 

"I'm  going  with  you,  son." 

Custis  laughed. 

"Going  with  me  ?  I'm  not  going  to  run  away  from 
you  any  more.  As  soon  as  I  get  work  I'll  come  back 
and  take  you  and  Virginia  and  mammy  to  Richmond 
with  me." 

"It  is  to  Custisville  I  want  to  go,  not  to  Rich- 
mond.   I  want  to  vote !" 

"You  dear  old  hero !  You  shall  go  to  Custisville ! 
You  shall  vote !" 

"You  don't  think  it  will  hurt  me?" 

"On  the  contrary,  it  will  do  you  good  on  a  glorious 
morning  like  this.  Do  you  know  I  thought  of  suggest- 
ing that  you  go  with  me,  but  was  afraid  you  might 
not  feel  quite  equal  to  the  rough  ride?  Since  you  pro- 
pose the  thing  yourself,  that  settles  it.  You  are  equal 
to  the  occasion  if  you  feel  that  you  are.  Then  think 
of  what  you  are  going  to  the  polls  for !  To  vote  as 
the  angels  would  have  you ;  to  vote  for  the  Bethle- 
hem platform,  'Peace  on  earth,  good  will  among 
men'!  Uncle  Pierre,  it  is  nothing  short  of  a  sacra- 
ment to  vote  the  Socialist  ticket.    Do  you  know  it?" 

"It  is  the  sacrament  of  sacraments,  my  son.  That's 
why  I  am  so  eager  to  partake  of  it  before  I  die.  I  shall 
probably  not  live  to  see  another  election." 

"None  of  that  sort  of  talk,  young  man.  I  forbid  it. 
You  are  not  going  to  transfer  your  citizenship  to 
heaven  for  a  long,  long  time  to  come.  No  doubt  the 
saints  and  angels  have  all  learned  what  a  fine  chap  you 
are  and  would  love  to  have  you  for  a  comrade,  but 
they  will  have  to  get  along  with  you  for  many  more 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         265 

Novembers.      We    need    you    here    below — Socialism 
and  I." 

Custisville  was  turbulent  with  the  hubbub  of  Amer- 
ican sovereigns,  so-called,  when  Aurelius's  wagon 
pulled  up  at  the  precinct  that  morning.  The  unex- 
pected appearance  of  the  beloved  physician  in  his  feeble 
condition,  accompanied  by  Custis,  of  whose  return  none 
of  them  had  as  yet  learned,  caused  quite  a  sensation, 
and  the  towering  personalities  of  Bryan  and  McKin- 
ley  in  consequence  suffered  temporary  eclipse.  With 
an  exception  or  two,  the  men,  irrespective  of  political 
differences,  gathered  about  the  wagon  as  Custis  sprang 
out  and  lovingly  lifted  the  Doctor  to  the  ground.  A 
general  handshaking  ensued,  and  then  Custis  led  the 
physician  in  to  vote.  When  they  came  out,  after  a  few 
minutes,  Custisville,  for  the  first  time  in  its  history  as 
a  voting  precinct,  held  ballots  that  were  holy ;  holy  be- 
cause each  vote  registered  a  prayer  for  the  democracy 
that  makes  for  brotherhood,  a  democracy  divine  and 
distinct  from  the  old  Bourbon  brand,  which,  Cleveland- 
ized  or  Bryanized,  always  spells  retrogression. 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 

"Well,  I  have  enlisted !" 

"Enlisted?" 

"Yes,  in  the  army  of  breadwinners.  Didn't  I  go  to 
Richmond  for  that  purpose  ?" 

Dr.  Custis  smiled,  and  Ciistis  continued : 

"If  the  newspapers  are  to  be  believed,  we  are  liv- 
ing in  times  so  prosperous  that  one  has  only  to  ask  for 
a  position  to  have  bunches  of  them  thrown  at  him.  But 
it  is  not  true,  and  these  journalistic  prostitutes  know  it 
is  not  true.  I  flattered  myself  I  knew  a  number  of 
people  in  Richmond — among  them  some  men  of  in- 
fluence. But  after  a  close  canvass  of  these  friends 
and  their  friends,  to  whom  they  referred  me,  the 
only  job  that  oft'ered  itself  was  that  of  brakeman." 

"Brakeman?" 

"Yes,  a  brakeman,  and  of  a  freight  train  at 
that." 

"And  you  accepted  the  job?" 

"That's  what  I  did.  I'll  start  right  in  at  the  bottom 
and  work  my  way  up  by  thrift  and  perseverance  to  the 
presidency  of  the  C.  and  O.  Why  not  ?  I  am  honest, 
industrious,  ambitious.  I  don't  drink  or  gamble.  I 
don't  chew  or  smoke.  I  say  no  bad  or  'cuss'  words, 
except  when  you  provoke  me  to  jerk  out  a  righteous 
damn  as  you  did  the  other  day.  Now,  I'll  have  to  cul- 
tivate penny-saving  and  church-going.  When  I  have 
acquired  these  two  cardinal  virtues  in  addition  to  my 
others — two  virtues  you  never  thought  worth  cultivat- 
ing— my  success  in  life  is  assured.  Before  I  am  forty- 
five  I  shall  stand  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  Ponty  Mor- 
gan,  Jack    Rockefeller,   and   the   other   millionaire 

266 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         267 

saints.  I  shall  not  be  the  failure  you  are  at  your 
age." 

"God  forbid !"  prayed  the  physician  so  fervently  as 
to  bring  tears  to  his  eyes. 

Custis  flung  his  arm  around  him,  and,  laughing, 
brought  the  Doctor's  pale,  sunken  cheek  up  to  his 
plump,  pink  one. 

"You  know  I  didn't  mean  that.  Can't  you  take  a 
little  fun?  I  never  in  all  my  life  saw  such  a  kid  as  you 
are.  You  know  I  think  you  the  biggest  success  in  the 
world.  Of  course.  Comrades  Morgan  and  Rockefeller 
and  their  host  of  worshipers  would  vote  you  the  saddest 
of  failures ;  but  One  infinitely  greater  than  they  would 
think  just  as  I  do  about  it.  In  the  day  of  division  I  am 
afraid  they  will  find  themselves  thrust  among  the  goats 
on  the  left,  but  I  have  no  doubt  at  all  as  to  where  Pierre 
Custis  will  pasture.  'Then  shall  the  King  say  unto 
them  on  his  right  hand.  Come,  ye  blessed  of  my  Father, 
inherit  the  kingdom  prepared  for  you  from  the  founda- 
tion of  the  world.  For  I  was  an  hungered  and  ye  gave 
me  meat ;  I  was  thirsty  and  ye  gave  me  drink ;  I  was 
a  stranger  and  ye  took  me  in ;  naked  and  ye  clothed 
me.  I  was  sick  and  ye  visited  me.  I  was  in  prison 
and  ye  came  unto  me.  Then  shall  the  righteous  answer 
him,  saying.  Lord,  when  saw  we  thee  an  hungered  and 
fed  thee,  a  stranger  and  took  thee  in?  Or  naked  and 
clothed  thee?  Or  when  saw  we  thee  sick  or  in  prison 
and  came  unto  thee?  And  the  King  shall  answer  and 
say  unto  them.  Verily,  I  say  unto  you,  inasmuch  as  ye 
have  done  it  unto  the  least  of  these,  my  brethren,  ye 
have  done  it  unto  me !'  " 

Cindie  had  entered  the  room  and  stood  with  arms 
akimbo,  a  rapt  listener. 

"If  we's  got  to  feed  de  hungry  and  clothe  de  naked 
and  take  in  all  de  stragglers  and  tramps  whar  come 
'long,  'fo'  Ole  Master  gwine  make  us  his  sheep,  I  mouty 
feared  de  goats  gwine  be  so  thick  dar  won't  be  room 
for  'em  to  butt.     But  dat  don't  make  me  werry  'bout 


268        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

Marse  Pierre's  ever  bein'  one  goat.  If  dar  ain't  but 
one  sheep  let  loose  on  de  right  hand,  dat  sheep  gwine 
be  him,  chile,  if  you  heah  my  plea,  for  he  ain't  done 
nuffin  all  his  life  but  do  for  udder  folks  and  gin  way 
his  substance  to  dem  whar  ain't  got  none." 

"Right  you  are,  mammy  !"  shouted  Custis,  slapping 
the  old  woman  on  the  shoulder.  "Say,  where  are  your 
puffed  lavender  waist  and  velvet  bonnet  with  all  those 
lovely  'cow-itch'  blooms  on  it?" 

"What  make  you  ax  dat,  chile?" 

"Because  you'll  have  to  wear  them  to  the  city 
tomorrow." 

"Go  'long,  honey!" 

"I'm  serious.  We  are  going  to  Richmond  to  live. 
We  are  going  tomorrow  if  Uncle  Pierre  thinks  he  can 
stand  the  trip." 

Cindie  sighed  resignedly. 

"Is  I  got  to  turn  a  bigoted,  stiff-necked  town 
nigger  in  my  latter  days,  arter  I  done  scoff  at  'em 
and  run  'em  down  all  my  life?" 

"I  wish  you  could  see  what  a  snug  little  house  I 
have  rented,  Uncle  Pierre,"  said  Custis,  after  awhile. 
"It  has  six  rooms,  bath  and  other  modern  conven- 
iences. Virginia,  dear,"  drawing  his  little  sister  to 
him,  "you  will  again  have  a  room  of  your  own.  To- 
night ends  this  chicken-coop  sort  of  existence." 

"And  the  furniture  ?"  queried  Dr.  Custis. 

"I  have  looked  after  all  that.  I  didn't  have  money 
enough  to  pay  cash  for  what  I  got,  but  Ben,  who  is  a 
friend  of  the  firm  that  sold  me  the  goods,  said  he 
would  gladly  lose  three  times  the  amount  for  the  pleas- 
ure of  proving  me  as  big  a  rascal  as  himself." 

"Don't  dat  sound  like  dat  speckle-faced  devil?" 
chuckled  Cindie. 

"Shall  I  get  your  mail,  Brother?"  asked  Virginia, 
presently. 

"Yes,  dear,  if  you  will." 

She  slipped  out  of  his  arms,  and,  dancing  away, 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         269 

got  It  and  brought  it  to  him.  There  were  ten  or  more 
letters  and  as  many  papers. 

"There  is  a  letter  from  Pelham,"  said  the  little 
girl.    "He  wrote  to  Uncle  Pierre,  too — and  me,  too." 

"There  is  a  letter  also  from  Virginia,"  said  Dr. 
Custis.  "Haven't  you  written  to  those  children  yet, 
son?" 

"I  wrote  a  long  letter  to  each  of  them  in  Richmond. 
I  requested  Pelham  to  forward  my  trunks  to  our  new 
home.    And  what  do  you  think  I  wrote  Virginia  ?" 

"Nothing,  I  trust,  you'll  regret." 

"No ;  but  I  stated  frankly  how  matters  stand ;  told 
her  of  the  humble  position  I  had  accepted,  of  the  un- 
certainty of  the  future.  I  released  her,  of  course,  from 
her  engagement." 

"Oh,  my  son !" 

"What  else  was  there  for  a  fellow  of  any  manliness 
to  do?" 

"Nothing,  it  seems." 

"I  couldn't  expect  a  girl  of  her  wealth  and  social 
position  to  marry  a  brakeman  of  a  freight  train, 
even  if  she  is  a  Socialist.  I  wish  she  were  not  rich ! 
Candidly,  Uncle  Pierre,  I  wish  she  didn't  have  a 
dollar  in  the  world !" 

"I  believe  you,  son." 

"Then  I  shouldn't  have  been  impelled  to  write  to 
her  as  I  did.  I  would  marry  her  and  work  for  her.  As 
it  is,  her  wealth  embarrasses  me  terribly.  I  feel  all 
the  time  as  if  I  were  suspected  of  being  that  most 
despicable  type  of  man,  a  fortune-hunter." 

"Nobody  who  knows  you  could  ever  suspect  you 
of  that ;  she  least  of  all.  She'll  never  give  you  up,  son ; 
she  loves  you  too  deeply." 

"No,  I  hardly  believe  myself  that  she  will.  Still  I 
think  it  was  my  duty  to  do  as  I  did.  She  can  do  as  she 
likes  in  the  matter." 

"Brother,  I  want  to  ask  you  some  questions  ?"  said 
Virginia,  during  the  lull  that  followed. 


270       RRRRLS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"All  right,  dear.    Proceed!" 

"You  know  I  own  some  property — a  cotton  planta- 
tion in  Georgia?" 

"Yes,  dear.  You  are  the  only  propertied  one 
among  us." 

"Well,  I've  begged  and  begged  Uncle  Pierre  to  go 
down  there  to  live.  I  told  him  he  could  have  my  prop- 
erty, he  and  you,  and  he  won't  have  it." 

"Of  course  not.  Uncle  Pierre  wouldn't  rob  you  of 
the  little  you  have." 

"He  wouldn't  be  robbing  me  if  I  gave  it  to  him." 

"Not  exactly,  but  he  would  be  taking  advantage 
of  your  youth." 

"Then,  I  told  him  if  he  wouldn't  do  that  to  take 
the  money  he  gets  from  the  rent  of  my  property  and 
spend  it  on  us  all." 

"And  won't  he  do  that  either  ?" 

"No,  he  won't.  I  can't  see  anything  wrong  about 
it.  The  day  after  we  were  turned  out  of  the  big  house, 
Mr.  Meredith  came  to  see  us,  and  he  said  to  Uncle 
Pierre,  'It's  nothing  more  than  right  to  charge  that 
child  board.'  " 

"And  what  did  Uncle  Pierre  say?" 

"He  got  mad  as  I  don't  know  what!  He  wasn't 
that  sort  of  guardian,  he  told  Mr.  Meredith.  When 
Mr.  Meredith  was  gone  I  told  him  he  ought  to 
charge  me  board.  He  said  he'd  go  to  the  poorhouse 
first  Now,  do  you  see  why  he  should  do  like  that  ? 
When  children  do  that  way,  grown-up  people  call 
them  stubborn  and  hard  headed,  but,"  and  the  little 
girl  sighed,  "grown-up  people  can  do  as  they  choose, 
and  it's  all  right." 

Custis  laughed  and  picked  up  her  copy-book. 

"  'An  honest  man  is  the  noblest  work  of  God,'  "  he 
read,  among  its  trite  maxims,  "That's  what  Uncle 
Pierre  is,  Virginia,  Do  you  know  it,  dear?  Your 
father  knew  it.  That's  why  he  intrusted  you  and  what 
he  left  you  to  Uncle  Pierre's  keeping." 


CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

The  long  line  of  freight  cars  came  to  a  jarring 
halt,  and  Custis,  in  blue  overalls,  sprang  to  the  plat- 
form with  the  air  of  a  veteran  brakeman. 

"Well,  how  do  you  like  the  work  by  this  time?" 
queried  Cardoza,  the  new  agent  at  Elk  Bluff,  half- 
pityingly,    half-patronizingly. 

"It's  all  right,"  answered  Custis,  indifferently. 
And  he  was  about  to  move  away,  when  Cardoza  said : 

"Heard  the  news?" 

"What  news?" 

"Why,  your  old  home  has  been  sold  again.  Didn't 
you  know  it?" 

"No." 

"Yes,  a  New  York  millionaire  has  bought  it — a 
gentleman  named  Huntington." 

"Huntington?"  exclaimed  Custis,  becoming  in- 
terested. 

"Yes,  a  relative  of  C.  P.  Huntington,  they  say. 
He's  got  dead  loads  of  coin — coin  to  cremate.  I 
wish  he'd  hand  me  over  fifty  thousand." 

Custis  said  nothing,  and  Cardoza  chattered  on: 

"Pie's  going  to  turn  the  place  into  a  summer  home, 
some  say,  and  others  say  he's  going  to  make  a  hunting 
lodge  of  it,  opening  it  for  his  swell  friends  in  New 
York  during  the  hunting  season.  I  reckon  you  feel 
pretty  bad  about  it,  don't  you?" 
.      "Not  at  all." 

"By  the  way,  he  is  here — ]\Ir.  Huntington  and  his 
son,"  pursued  Cardoza. 

"Here  at  Elk  Bluff?     Where?" 

"On  the  other  side  of  the  station.     They  came 

271 


272        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

down  from  the  courthouse  in  Lawyer  ^Meredith's  car- 
riage to  take  the  4:30  passenger  for  Richmond.  They 
were  talking  to  me  right  here  not  three  minutes  ago, 
and  just  as  friendly  as  I  don't  know  what.  I  tell  you 
I've  taken  a  great  shine  to  young  Huntington.  He  is 
a  fine  fellow,  nice  and  pleasant  as  he  can  be — not  a 
damned  bit  stuck  up.     He's  the  real  stuff." 

"That's  what  he  is,"  smiled  Custis. 

"How  do  you  know?  You've  never  met  him? 
Say,"  cried  the  gold-toothed  snob,  excitedly,  "there 
they  are  now  at  the  other  end  of  the  platform — those 
two  gentlemen  in  the  swell  top-coats !  Aristocrats, 
every  inch,  eh?  Look!  They  have  turned  around; 
they  are  coming  this  way." 

Impulsively,  Custis  took  a  step  or  two  toward  his 
father  and  brother ;  then,  changing  his  mind,  he 
turned  and  hurried  into  the  baggage-room.  But  Pel- 
ham  had  already  seen  him,  and  with  the  glad  cry  of 
"Custis!  Custis!"  bounded  after  him.  The  next  second 
the  brothers  were  in  each  other's  arms,  and  Cardoza's 
lips  were  an  inch  apart. 

"You  lovable  scamp !"  cried  Pelham,  effervescing 
with  joy.  "What  do  you  mean  by  such  erratic  be- 
havior? What  right  had  you  to  quit  college  and  go 
to  work  without  consulting  me  about  it?" 

"You'll  have  to  forgive  me,  little  brother." 

"I  don't  know  whether  I  shall  or  not.  Ah,  the 
worry  of  mind  you  have  given  me !  Do  you  know  I 
have  been  unfit  for  study  or  anything  else  save  to 
chase  after  you?" 

"It  doesn't  seem  to  have  told  upon  you  physically. 
I  never  saw  you  looking  so  well,  little  boy." 

"Thank  you ;  and  I  never  saw  you  look  so  con- 
foundedly handsome  as  you  do  in  those  overalls.  I 
would  give  anything  for  a  picture  of  you  now.  Say, 
how  is  Uncle  Pierre?    Is  he  really  so  wretched?" 

"I  found  him  in  a  distressing  condition.     But  I 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         273 

took  him  in  hand  at  once,  and  he  has  already  improved 
wonderfully," 

"That's  glorious  news !  You'll  bring  him  back 
to  himself.  It  is  in  you  to  do  it.  Father  is  here  with 
me.  Do  you  know  it?  Come,  let  us  go  to  him.  Oh, 
Custis.  He  is  so  changed.  He  is  another  man.  / 
love  him  now!    And  it  is  all  your  work." 

Arm  in  arm,  they  went  out  to  where  stood  their 
father,  who,  from  a  fine  sense  of  delicacy,  refused  to 
obtrude  himself  on  Custis ;  but,  as  the  boy  approached 
with  his  hand  outstretched  and  a  smile  that  carried 
a  caress,  his  face  glowed  with  the  gladness  he  felt  in 
the  presence  of  the  youngster,  and  even  after  they 
had  shaken  hands  he  held  the  boy's  hand,  stroking  it 
again  and  again. 

"And  you  gladly  gave  up  your  studies  at  Yale, 
abandoned  everything,  when  you  knew  that  all  I  have 
is  yours  and  Pelham's,  to  take  up  this  menial  toil,  to 
pursue  this  drudgery — you  were  even  willing  to  don 
this  garb  of  industrial  servitude — because  of  your 
love  for  Pierre  Custis?" 

"And  hasn't  he  made  himself  poor  because  of  his 
love  for  me?    You  have  not  forgotten  this — father?" 

The  word  was  spoken  with  a  caressing  hesitancy 
that  stirred  Huntington  to  his  depths. 

"I  have  not  forgotten,  my  son.  It  is  ever  with  me, 
Pierre's  splendid  self-forgetfulness.  I  thought  in  my 
youth  I  knew  him,  but  I  had  not  half  sounded  the 
greatness  of  him ;  for,  after  all,  real  greatness  is  noth- 
ing more,  nothing  less,  than  unselfishness." 

The  faces  of  his  sons  simultaneously  lighted  up, 
their  eyes,  aglow  with  gladness,  reminding  one  of  wet 
violets  when  the  sunlight  strikes  them. 

"I  love  to  hear  you  talk  like  that!"  exclaimed 
Custis. 

"I  do,  too !"  chimed  in  Pelham.  "It  makes  me  feel 
good  through  and  through." 

"Love  is  greater  than  gold,  fame,  everything,"  re- 


274        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

fleeted  the  father.  'T  am  fast  learning  this  truth,_  niy 
boys.  These  things  pass  away.  Love  remains ;  it  is 
the  one  thing  that  endures ;  it  is  eternal." 

"Because  it  is  of  God,"  said  Custis. 

Huntington,  after  a  moment,  drew  from  an  inner 
pocket  a  large  envelope  and  placed  it  in  Custis's  hand. 

"Holly  Hill  is  Pierre's  again,"  he  said.  "This 
restores  it  to  him,  or,  rather,  to  you,  which  is  the  same 
thing.  You  can  transfer  the  property  to  him,  as  I 
have  transferred  it  to  you.  I  want  him  to  receive  it 
from  you,  not  from  me.  Virginia,  in  the  impetuosity 
of  her  woman's  love,  burned  to  do  the  thing  I  have 
done,  but  she  finally  gave  way  to  me,  like  the  sensible 
girl  she  is.  Coming  from  the  woman  you  love,  it 
would,  of  course,  embarrass  you,  but,  coming  from 
your  father,  it  will,  or  it  should,  cause  you  no  em- 
barrassment whatever.  Now,  concerning  Pierre's 
health:    The  poor  boy  is  all  run  down,  is  he?" 

"I  found  him  in  most  pitiable  shape,  but  I  am 
determined  to  bring  him  out  of  it." 

"That's  right.  We  must  put  forth  every  effort 
to  save  him.  He  mustn't  die  yet.  We  need  him,  boys 
— this  incomparable  Uncle  Pierre  of  yours,  who  in  the 
days  before  you  were  born  played  Jonathan  to  your 
father's  David.  Like  David,  I  went  far  astray.  Like 
David,  I  have  lived  to  sorrow  for  my  foolishness." 

"And  because  of  it  you  will  be  loved  again,  as  the 
Psalmist  was,"  said  Custis. 

At  which  the  father  smiled.  And  for  a  minute  no 
word  was  spoken. 

"Pierre  needs  a  long,  long  rest,"  said  the  repent- 
ant plutocrat.  "He  needs  a  change  of  environment, 
the  diversion  and  delight  of  travel  and  all  that." 

"It  would  benefit  him  undoubtedly,"  said  Custis. 
"It  would  go  far  toward  hastening  his  restoration  to 
health." 

"Well,  he  shall  have  it.  It  may  all  end  in  disap- 
pointment, as  in  so  many  instances  of  the  kind.    You 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         275 

can  easily  bring  back  the  old  home  if  you  have  the 
price  asked;  but  health  is  not  a  commodity  to  be 
bought  and  sold.  However,  we'll  do  all  that  we  can 
for  him.    Dear  old    chap !" 

"Father  and  I  have  mapped  it  all  out  for  you  and 
Uncle  Pierre,"  said  Pelham,  laughing.  "And  it  is  a 
•program  covering  several  years." 

"That's  what  we  have  done,"  smiled  the  father, 
looking  fondly  from  one  youngster  to  the  other. 
"First,  you  are  to  give  up  your  job  to  some  poor  devil 
witiiout  one.  You  need  it  no  longer.  Then  I  want 
you  to  take  Pierre  to  Florida  for  the  winter.  When 
you  return,  say  about  mid-April  or  early  May,  Holly 
Hill  will  have  been  thoroughly  remodelled,  refurnished 
and  made  over  into  an  as  ideal  country  home  as  pos- 
sible. I  want  Pierre  to  enjoy  the  summer  in  his  old 
home,  to  feel  that  it  is  his  again,  and  that  no  money 
lender  can  wrest  it  from  him  any  more." 

"What  then?"  said  Custis. 

"You  and  he  are  then  to  go  abroad.  You  are  to 
go  to  Heidelburg  and  he  is  to  remain  with  you  till  you 
are  through." 

"How  did  you  learn  of  my  desire  to  go  to  Heidel- 
burg?" 

"Don't  you  know  I  am  a  mind-reader?" 

"You  may  be,  but  I  suspect  a  certain  little  boy 
put  you  on  to  that." 

And  then  Pelham,  to  whom  he  had  once  expressed 
an  ambition  to  go  to  Heidelburg.  laughed  in  that  glee- 
ful way  of  his,  showing  his  white  teeth,  which  made 
even  strangers  fall  in  love  with  the  boy. 

"Now,  briefly,  that  is  the  program,"  said  Hunt- 
ington. "Have  you  any  objections  or  amendments  to 
offer?" 

"What  are  the  conditions?"  asked  Custis,  laugh- 
ing.   "Am  I  to  go  over  to  the  Republican  party?" 

"Damn  the  Republican  party  and  everything  else 
that  makes  for  the  soul's  blight!"  exclaimed  the  once 


276        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

stalwart  disciple  of  Hamilton  the  people-hater.  "Do 
you  think  I  really  meant  what  I  said  to  you 
that  night?  I  was  merely  talking  to  hear  myself  talk, 
or,  rather,  to  hear  you  talk.  I  didn't  speak  even  with 
the  view  of  tempting  you.  For  I  knew  you  were  in- 
corruptible ;  that  all  the  millions  of  all  the  millionaires 
could  not  tempt  you  to  falter  in  your  devotion  to  the 
cause  of  the  working  class,  to  swerve  an  inch  from 
your  loyalty  to  socialism." 

"Then  I  am  free  to  preach  socialism  to  my 
heart's  delight?" 

'T  would  not  have  you  anything  but  a  Socialist. 
It  is  your  radicalism,  and  the  fire,  the  enthusiasm 
born  of  it,  that  make  you  the  glorious  youngster  you 
are  in  your  father's  eyes.  If  you  were  to  shrivel  into 
a  conservative,  parroting  the  inanities  of  subsidized 
newspapers  and  political  prostitutes,  if  you  were  to 
degenerate  into  a  creature  so  stale  and  uninteresting, 
so  barren  of  individuality  or  originality — why,  the 
charm,  the  glory  of  my  boy  would  be  gone,  and  I 
should  mourn  for  you  as  one  dead." 

Huntington's  right  arm  had  found  its  way  around 
Custis's  neck  while  he  was  talking.  He  now  stretched 
forth  his  left  arm  and  brought  Pelham  within  his  em- 
brace. 

All  work  about  the  station  was  practically  sus- 
pended. Trainmen  and  loiterers  alike  were  absorbed 
in  the  trio.  Cardoza's  eyes  had  enlarged  ab- 
normally. What  meant  Christian's  affectionate  rela- 
tions with  those  millionaire  swells? 

"Christian's  right  in  it,"  he  remarked  to  Zeb. 
Perkins,  who  had  come  to  see  if  his  guano  had  ar- 
rived. "They  seem  awfully  stuck  on  him,  both 
father  and  son." 

"Why,  Custis  and  that  young  chap  are  closer  than 
brothers,"  returned  Zebedee.  "Young  Huntington 
spent  all  last  summer  at  Holly  Hill  and  he  was  there 
last  Christmas,  too,  they  tell  me.     He's  a  mighty  so- 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         277 

ciable  boy,  considering  all  the  money  his  father's  got. 
He  ain't  a  bit  stuck  up." 

"No,  he  don't  seem  to  be.  He  was  talking  to  me 
in  the  friendliest  way  you  ever  saw  just  now ;  asked 
me  how  many  hours  I  worked,  and  when  I  told  him 
eighty-four  a  week  he  was  horrified.  He  said  it  was 
a  shame.  'But  it  won't  be  that  way,  my  boy,'  said 
he,  'when  the  people  own  the  railroads  and  telegraphs 
and  everything  else.'  What  in  the  devil  did  he  mean 
by  that?" 

"Why,  you  dog-gone  fool,  don't  you  know  noth- 
ing, and  been  living  in  town  all  your  life?  The  fel- 
low is  a  Socialist." 

"A  rich  young  fellow  like  that  an  Anarchist?" 

"I  didn't  say  he  was  an  Anarchist,  did  I?  Don't 
you  know  the  difference  between  a  Socialist  and  an 
Anarchist.  Custis  Christian  is  a  Socialist;  so  is  the 
Doctor,  and  I  reckon  them  Huntingtons  both  are, 
too.    You  know  what  I  got  in  my  head  ?" 

"What?" 

/  "I  believe  that  thar  young  chap  Huntington  has 
got  his  daddy  to  buy  Holly  Hill  for  the  Doctor." 

Here  the  three  men  came  down  the  platform, 
Huntington  walking  between  his  boys. 

"I  am  due  in  Richmond  at  6 :30,"  said  Custis, 
breaking  away  from  his  father  and  brother. 

."Then  we'll    call    about    7,"    returned    Pelham. 
-"Shall  we,  father?"  ^ 

Huntington    smiled   assent. 
,^"A11  right.     I'll  look  for  you  boys,"  said  Custis, 
and,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand,  he  sprang  on  his  train 
as  it  moved  off. 

.  "An  hour  and  a  half  yet  to  wait,"  observed  Pel- 
ham,  impatiently. 

His  father  took  his  arm  and  they  walked  back 
to  where  they  had  talked  with  Custis. 

"Pelham,  little  chap,"  said  Frederick  Hunting- 
ton, "I  am  far  happier  than  I  deserve  to  be.    What  is 


278        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

all  the  gold  in  the  world  beside  the  wealth  of  two 
such  boys  as  are  you  and  Custis?  Do  you  know 
that,  in  loving  him,  I  have  fallen  in  love  with  you? 
I  wronged  him  atrociously,  and  his  poor  mother 
even  more.  But  I  have  wronged  you,  too — yes, 
cruelly,  if  less  fiendishly.  I  refused  to  understand 
you,  and  it  was  Custis  who  made  me  see  for  the 
first  time  the  fragrance,  the  loveliness  of  you.  One 
of  the  most  beautiful  things  about  you  is  yoijr  love 
for  Custis.  It  is  a  thing  divine.  Many  a  boy 
in  your  place  would  be  consumed  with  jealousy 
because  of  the  great  love  I  can't  help  showing 
for  your  brother.  Not  so  with  you.  The  more  I 
love  him,  the  happier  it  makes  you." 

"It  does!  It  does,  father!  I  love  him  so  I  love 
everybody  else  who  loves  him!" 

"And  because  you  love  Custis  so  I  have  grown  to 
love  you  as  dearly  as  I  love  him.  Neither  of  you  boys 
is  any  nearer,  any  dearer,  to  me  now  than  the  other." 

"Father!     My   father!"  murmured   Pelham. 

It  was  sweet  to  know  that  at  last  his  father  un- 
derstood him,  and,  understanding  him,  loved  him. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

A  bell  a  block  away  was  striking  the  hour  of  seven 
when  Ctistis  bounded  up  the  steps  of  his  new  home 
that  evening,  fairly  afire  to  tell  Dr.  Custis  all  that  had 
happened. 

"Maxwelton's  braes  are  bonnle 
As  early  falls  the  dew," 

sang  the  blithe  boy,  bursting  into  the  parlor. 

Dr.  Custis  sat  before  a  cheerful  grate  fire,  and  be- 
side him  a  lady  whom  Custis  had  believed  to  be  three 
hundred  and  fifty  miles  away. 

"Mrs.  Huntington !"  he  cried,  as  she  rose  to  greet 
him. 

"Darling  boy !"  she  returned,  kissing  him  with  all 
the  warmth  of  a  mother. 

"This  is  truly  delightful,  isn't  it,  Uncle  Pierre?" 
he  asked.  "How  are  you  this  evening?"  as  he  stooped 
to  kiss  the  physician. 

"Better,  son,  thank  you." 

"And  I  have  something  here  that  will  make  you 
feel  better  still,"  placing  his  hand  over  his  breast 
pocket.  "Holly  Hill  is  yours  again.  Think  of  it!" 
and  he  turned  the  papers  over  to  Dr.  Curtis.  "I  smell 
violets!    Where  is  Virginia?" 

"Virginia?"  echoed  that  young  lady's  mother. 
"Can't  I  come  to  Pachmond  without  Virginia?" 

"Of  course,  but  you  haven't  done  so  in  this  in- 
stance. Virginia  Yancey  is  in  this  house.  Her  weak- 
ness for  violets  has  betrayed  the  damsel." 

He  sprang  into  the  back  parlor,  and  presently 
there  were  manifestations  of  great  joy  between  two 
young  persons  rapturously  in  love  with  each  other, 

379 


28o        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

followed  by  showers  of  kisses — hot,  chaste  kisses, 
such  as  love  only  in  its  May  time  knows. 

"That's  enough!"  cried  Mrs.  Huntington,  happy 
as  the  youngsters  themselves. 

And  they,  too,  concluded  it  was  enough,  and  came 
sedately  into  where  she  and  Dr.  Curtis  sat. 

"Louise  and  Virginia  had  prepared  me  for  this, 
son,"  said  the  physician,  as  Custis  sat  down  beside  him. 
"It  is  a  delicate  act  of  generosity  on  Fred's  part,  and 
it  moves  me  deeply." 

"Where  did  you  see  Fred  and  Pelham,  dear?"' 
inquired  Mrs.  Huntington. 

"At  Elk  Bluff.  They  will  be  here  tonight.  By  the 
way,  they  didn't  tell  me  you  girls  were  in  Richmond." 

"Because  they  were  as  ignorant  of  it  as  you," 
laughed  the  lady. 

"We  had  to  follow  them,"  said  Virginia.  "I 
wanted  to  see  Uncle  Pierre." 

"And  to  show  him  that  he  couldn't  shake  you  as 
easily  as  he  had  imagined,"  added  Dr.  Custis. 

Old  Cindie,  who  was  spreading  the  table  for  the 
evening  meal,  here  stopped  short  and  chuckled  im- 
moderately. 

"I  'clar  you  ladies  mus'  'scuse  me,"  she  apologized. 
"I  bleeged  to  have  my  laughin'  fit  out,  dis  no-sense 
nigger  is." 

"Why,  what's  the  matter,  mammy?"  asked  the 
Doctor. 

"I  laughin',  honey,  'cause  you  ain't  gwine  to  die." 

"What  makes  you  so  sure  of  it?" 

"  'Cause  the  devil  he  'ginnin'  to  come  back  in 
you.     You  gittin'  Adamfied  agin." 

As  they  sat  at  supper  Custis  told  of  the  program 
which  has  father  had  outlined  for  him  and  Dr.  Custis. 
The  ladies,  it  developed,  were  also  parties  to  the  plot. 

"I  presume  you  are  ready  to  start  with  me  to 
Florida,  Uncle  Pierre,  as  soon  as  you  can  get  ready?" 
said  Custis,  reaching  for  a  second  winesap. 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         281 

"Yes,  but  I  have  an  amendment  to  offer.  I  want 
Virginia  to  go  with  us — as  your  wife?" 

"A  capital  idea,  that!"  cried  the  youngster. 
"There  is  nothing  slow  about  our  Pierre,  is  there, 
girls?"  He  dropped  the  halves  of  the  apple  he  had 
just  cut  in  two,  and  looked  at  Miss  Yancey.  "Now, 
sweetheart,  it  is  up  to  you.  Will  you  go  with  us  to  the 
land  of  oranges,  the  choicer  half  of  me,  or  will  you  re- 
main behind  a  feminine  whole  ?" 

"Ask  mother,"  she  returned,  with  mock  demure- 
ness. 

He  leaned  beseechingly  toward  Mrs.  Huntington. 

"She  .says  it  is  up  to  you.  May  I  make  a  Chris- 
tian of  the  young  lady  ?" 

"I'll  see  Fred  about  it,"  was  all  the  satisfaction  he 
got.    But  it  caused  him  to  glow  with  triumph. 

"That  settles  it,  sweetheart !"  he  cried.  "We'll  go 
to  Florida  as  Mr.  and  Mrs.  P.  Custis  Christian,  ac- 
companied by  Dr.  Pierre  Custis.  By  the  way,  where 
is  our  other  Virginia?" 

"Kate  Hardie  was  here  this  afternoon  and  took 

the  child  home  with  her  to  spend  the  night,"  explained 

Dr.  Custis. 

******* 

"If  the  boy  against  whom  I  sinned  so  grievously 
can  forgive  me,  can't  you,  too,  forgive  me,  dear  old 
friend  of  the  clean,  sweet  days  of  long  ago?" 

Frederick  Huntington  read  all  the  answer  he 
sought  in  the  drenched  eyes  of  Pierre  Custis,  whose 
hand  lay  in  his. 

"I  am  come  back  to  you,  Pierre,  to  confess  myself 
a  failure  and  to  acknowledge  you  a  success.  I  am 
come  back  to  you,  my  social  conscience  requickened, 
my  social  vision  restored  and  enlarged — the  work  of 
the  boy  whom  I  cast  off  and  whom  you  took  to  your 
heart,  giving  him  the  love  and  care  which  I  should 
have  given  him." 

"It  is  all  right,  Fred;  it  is  all  right,"  said  Dr. 


282        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

Custis,  at  last  able  to  speak  steadily,  and  nobody  who 
had  ever  heard  him  utter  the  words  could  have  doubted 
that  it  was  all  right,  there  was  something  so  soothing, 
so  reassuring  in  them.  They  had  dried  the  tears  of 
Custis  in  his  babyhood,  and  scattered  the  griefs  of  his 
boyhood.  They  had  inspired  many  a  despairing  neigh- 
bor with  fresh  hope  and  courage.  They  had  healed 
the  sick  and  brought  back  to  life  those  accounted 
among  the  dying.  And  they  fell  now  upon  Hunting- 
ton like  the  forgiveness  of  God,  bringing  him  again 
into  oneness  with  the  companion  and  the  ideals  of  his 
youth. 

The  three  young  people  were  grouped  together, 
Pelham  standing  between  Custis  and  Virginia,  an  arm 
around  the  neck  of  each.  As  Huntington  sat  himself 
down  by  the  Doctor's  side,  they  moved  toward  the 
window,  leaving  the  trio  of  elders  to  themselves. 

"Sister  mine,  you  missed  the  sight  of  your  life 
today,"  said  Pelham.  "You  ought  to  have  seen  your 
lover  and  my  brother  in  trainman's  overalls.  He 
looked  great  in  them,  and  no  mistake." 

'T  wish  I  had  seen  you,"  exclaimed  the  girl. 

"Haven't  you  another  pair  of  overalls — a  pair  in 
the  house?"  inquired  Pelham. 

"I  hadn't  thought  of  that!"  cried  \'irginia.  "Go 
put  them  on,  dear,  and  let  me  see  how  you  look  as  a 
brakeman." 

"Really?" 

"Yes,  really." 

"Mammy,  have  you  washed  those  overalls  I 
brought  home  yesterday?"  approaching  Cindie,  who, 
having  "cleared  away  the  supper  things,"  had  taken 
her  accustomed  seat  by  the  fire. 

"I  wash  'em  and  i'on  'em  out  dis  mawnin'.  What 
you  want  wid  'cm.  chile?  You  ain't  gAvine  to  war  'em 
no  mo'." 

"Virginia  wants  to  see  me  in  them." 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         283 

"Dey's  up  in  yo'  room.  I'll  go  and  fetch  'em  to 
you." 

"No,  you  won't.  My  legs  are  younger  than 
yours." 

And  up  to  his  room  he  rushed,  Pelham  close  upon 
his  heels. 

"Virginia !" 

"Yes,  father." 

"Pierre  and  Louise  tell  me  that  you  and  Custis 
want  to  marry  as  a  prelude  to  my  plans." 

"Uncle  Pierre  sprang  the  proposition  upon  us, 
father.  It  is  he  who  would  rush  us  into  ills  we  know 
not  of." 

"But  you  are  willing  to  be  rushed  into  them  ?" 

"Well,  I'll  offer  no  opposition  if  it  will  make 
Uncle  Pierre  happy." 

"My  poor  child !  Mrs.  Huntington,"  turning  to  his 
wife  with  mock  severity,  "how  can  you  sit  by  so  com- 
placently and  see  our  daughter  sacrifice  herself  like 
this,  even  to  please  Pierre  Custis  ?" 

"It  is  a  shame,  Fred,  when  you  come  to  look  at 
it  seriously;  but  we  have  all  invested  you  with  the 
power  of  veto  in  the  matter." 

Here  the  boys  burst  into  the  room,  Custis  wearing 
his  clean  blue  overalls. 

Virginia  rushed  up  to  him,  clapping  her  hands, 

"You  beautiful  booby!"  she  cried.  "Isn't  he 
lovely,  mother?    Isn't  he  irresistible,  mammy?" 

"He  all  dat  whar  you  say  is,"  grunted  Cindie.  "I 
don't  keer  what  he  put  on ;  if  he  don't  put  on  nuffin'." 

"You  thing  of  delight !  You  freight  train  angel !" 
raved  Virginia,  and  she  pulled  the  boy's  lips  down  to 
hers  and  kissed  them  once,  twice,  thrice. 

"Oh,  what  a  sacrifice  it  would  be  for  her  to  marry 
him !"  sighed  Mrs.  Huntington,  aside  to  her  husband 
and  Dr.  Custis.     Then  to  her  daughter: 

"Virginia,  I  think  a  girl  of  your  age  and  sense — 


284   REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

you  are  twenty-one,  remember — should  act  with  more 
decorum." 

*T  have  a  right  to  kiss  him  as  much  as  I  want  to. 
He  is  mine— ^and  Uncle  Pierre's." 

"And  mine,  too,"  shouted  Pelham,  coiling  his  arm 
about  his  brother's  body. 

Cindie  chuckled,  causing  the  trinity  in  the  forties 
to  outlaugh  the  trinity  in  the  twenties. 

"Have  you  no  stock  in  him,  mammy?"  inquired 
Fred  Huntington. 

"I  was  jes'  steddyin'  to  myse'f  whar'bouts  I 
come  in  at,"  answered  the  negrcss.  "I  suttiny 
oughts  to  have  some  shars  in  de  chile." 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

"Lawd  Gawd,  Sis  Millie!  You  make  me  jump 
outen  my  skin !  But  I  mouty,  mouty  glad  to  see  you. 
How  you  bin  all  dese  months?" 

And  Cindie's  lips  and  ^lillie's  lips,  the  hue  of 
blackberries  drained  of  their  juice,  rushed  into  a  kiss 
that  echoed. 

"Oh,  I  is  up  an'  doin',  'siderin'  I  got  one  foot  in  _de 
grave  and  de  udder  nigh  to  de  aidge.  You  lookin' 
peart.  Sis  Cindie?  'Tain't  no  use  axin'  if  you  well. 
You'  face  certifies  it." 

"I  ain't  tellin'  you  how  I  is  in  body,  I  so  happy 
in  sperrit  to  git  out  o'  dat  old  jumbled-up,  run-crazy 
New  York  place." 

"I  lay  you  is,  honey.  Dar  ain't  no  place  like  Ole 
Wirginny,  arter  all  1" 

"No,  Jesus!" 

"I  ain't  knowin'  a  Gawd's  Avord  'bout  yo'  bein' 
back  tell  Jeems  he  happen  tole  me  las'  night  dat  you 
was  heah,  and  done  bin  sense  Monday.  De  po'  for- 
gitful  nigger !  De  Doctor  and  Mr.  Custis  ain't  come 
back  wid  you,  is  dey?" 

"No ;  but  we  done  come  down  to  prepar'  for  'em, 
Mrs.  Huntington,  Mr.  Pelham  and  little  Wirginia 
come  'long  wid  me.  Marse  Pierre  and  de  chile — dey's 
comin'  in  July,  wid  ]\Iiss  Wirginia  and  de  baby." 

"How  long  you  done  bin  gone  'way.  Sis  Cindie? 
It  'pears  to  me  a  gineration  done  come  and  gone." 

"I  bin  gone  ever  sense  de  chile's  w^eddin'.  Dat's 
nigh  on  to  tw^enty  months  now.  De  baby  he  nine 
months  old,  gwine  on  ten.  Lawdy!  How  dis  nigger 
is  itchin'  to  hole  dat  baby !" 

285 


286        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

"I  spec'  you  is,  jedgin'  fum  de  sto'  you  always  sot 
by  Mr.  Custis.    What  'tis,  Sis  Cindie — gal  or  boy?" 

"A  boy,  and  he  name  Pierre,  arter  Marse  Pierre, 
to  be  sho'.  De  chile  and  Miss  Wirginia  had  de  name 
pick  out  for  him  'long  'fo'  he  'riv.  Fum  all  de  'counts, 
dar  never  was  sech  a  boy.  Dey  all  jes'  wushup  him. 
Marse  Pierre  is  de  bigges'  fool,  to  be  sho.  He  love 
chillen  so,  for  one  reason,  and  de  nex'  reason,  it's  de 
little  chap's  boy.  But  I  'spec'  dat  baby  is  all  dey  sez 
he  is.  He  'bleeged  to  be.  Look  at  de  father  he  got ! 
Look  at  de  mother  he  got !  Is  you  heern  *bout  de  great 
book,  de  novel  whar  de  chile  done  w^rit?" 

"To  be  sure  I  is.  'He  Dat  Got  Years'— dat's  de 
name  of  it,  ain't  it?" 

"  'He  Dat  Have  Years,'  "  corrected  Cindie,  smil- 
ing superiorly.  "Don't  you  know  everybody's  readin' 
dat  book,  everybody  gwine  crazy  'bout  it  ?  I  dunno  how 
many  folks  was  reading  it  on  de  Old  Dominion 
steamer  whar  we  come  to  Old  Pint  on,  and  when  it 
leak  out  someways  dat  we  was  de  chile's  folks  you 
oughts  to  seed  de  'miration  we  got.  I  w^as  de  scru- 
tination  of  all  eyes,  'cause  I  some  punkins  in  dat 
book,  you  know;  I  is  a  figger  of  consequence.  If  I'd 
bin  an  ign'ant,  common  nigger,  my  head  would  bin 
turn  all  'round,  I'd  bin  so  swell  up  wid  vainglory. 
What  de  folks  over  at  Col'nel  Boiling's  say  'bout  de 
book.  Sis  Millie?" 

"De  young  folks  think  mouty  w^ell  of  de  book. 
Mr.  Randolph  he  sez  'tis  a  grand  thing.  It  make  him 
see  life  through  diff'ent  spectikles,  he  sez,  and  Miss 
'Hontas  vows  'tis  de  sweetest  story  she  ever  read." 

"And  what  de  Col'nel  say  'bout  de  book?" 

"Well,  Marse  Powhatan,  he  ole  and  staidified,  you 
know.  He  'low  Mr.  Custis  mouty  smart  and  all  dat, 
but  he  sez  he  fur  fum  'dorsing  a  whole  passel  in  de 
book." 

Cindie's  contempt  was  indescribable. 

"Who  spec'  dat  ole  tarrypin  to  'dorse  what  de 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         287 

chile  write?"  she  cried,  hotly.  "Who  'spec'  an^ole 
swamp-owl  to  fly  whar  de  eagle  fly?  Who  'spec'  an 
ole  bat  to  'plaud  de  lark  or  clap  his  hands  when  de 
mocking-bird  opens  his  mouf?  De  Col'nel  needn't 
'spec'  de  world  to  stand  still  'cause  he  won't  move 
'long." 

Aunt  Millie  sighed.  She  always  scented  heresy 
in  such  utterances. 

"Is  de  Doctor  well?"  she  asked,  after  a  moment. 

"Well  ?"  echoed  Cindie.  "Dat  ain't  de  word,  Mil- 
lie Bowles!  He  ain't  never  bin  spiled  wid  sech  good 
health  in  all  his  born  days.  He  kin  walk  fifteen  or  mo' 
miles  a  day  and  be  no  tireder  dan  me  or  you  is  jes' 
clambin'  dem  porch  steps  yander." 

"You  don't  like  up  dar  in  New  York,  den?"  pur- 
sued Aunt  Millie. 

"What  up  dar  to  like?  I  mout  managed  it  if 
Marse  Pierre  and  de  chile  had  been  dar,  but  wid  dem 
'cross  de  sea  I  'bleeged  to  mourn  for  home.  I  ain't 
castin'  no  slurs  on  de  Huntingtons.  Dey  all  treat  me 
like  I  was  de  Queen  of  Sheby — Mr.  Huntington, 
Mrs.  Huntington  and  Mr.  Pelham.  Mammy  dis  and 
mammy  dat — dat's  de  way  'twas  all  de  time.  I  warn't 
'bleeged  to  do  no  work  'cept  I  choose  to.  Dar  was 
plenty  of  furrin  white  trash  in  de  house  to  do  de 
servants'  work.  I  could  git  up  when  I  minds  to  and 
lay  down  when  I  minds  to.  No,  I  got  nuffin  in  Gawd's 
world  to  say  agin  de  way  I  was  treated.  'Tis  de  place, 
'tis  New  York,  whar  I  shootin'  off  my  kattridges  at; 
for  ole  Master  never  puff  de  bref  of  life  into  a  gra- 
ciouser  or  seemlier  lady  dan  Mrs.  Huntington.  She 
one  white  'oman  whar's  had  raisin' !  Money  nor  nuffin 
else  don't  turn  her  fool.  She  feels  for  udder  folks ; 
she  treat  her  servants  like  dey  all  a  passel  of  chillen. 
Dear  dis  an'  dear  dat — dat's  de  way  she  'dress  'em  all 
de  time.  And  as  for  Mr.  Pelham,  dar's  mouty  few 
boys  like  him,  I  tell  you.  He  mo'  like  de  chile  dan 
anybody  I  ever  rund  'cross.     I  jes'  love  him  dearly. 


288        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTFI 

But  arter  I  done  said  all  dis,  it  don't  make  up  for 
Marse  Pierre  and  de  chile.  I  done  travel  too  long  wid 
'em  to  be  happy  widout  'em  at  dis  late  day !" 

Aunt  Millie  swayed  and  bowed  in  assent. 

"I  ain't  bin  doin'  nuffin  but  breathin'  ever  sense  I 
got  back,"  continued  Cindie.  "Dar  ain't  no  room  up 
dar  to  git  no  bref,  de  houses  so  ungawdly  tall  and  de 
pavements  so  jammed  wid  folks  whar  ain't  scrupling 
a  Gawd's  bit  agin  knockin'  you  down  and  niashin'  de 
liver  outen  you,  if  you  don't  move  'long  wid  'em.  If 
yo'  shoe  strings  come  untied  yo'  got  to  let  'em  stay 
untied  if  you  don't  want  to  be  trompled  to  death.  An' 
de  roads  dey's  all  jammed  up  wid  hacks  and  ka'idges 
an'  bicycles  an'  'lectricity  cars  and  dese  heah  auty- 
alabamas.  Mr.  Huntington  he  got  one,  Lawdy!  I 
gits  so  sinful  foolish  when  I  go  out  on  de  street  up 
dar  dat  'fo'  Gawd  I  ain't  knowin'  whar  my  head  is,  nor 
whar  my  feet  is.  But  you  ought  to  see  dat  chile — little 
Wirginia,  I  mean.  She  kin  go  anywhars  over  de 
town  she  wants  to  go — hop  on  de  'lectricity  cars  or  on 
dem  steam  cars  whar  run  'long  up  on  dem  high  black 
trestles  wid  constables  sottin'  by  a  little  glass  show  case 
to  see  dat  you  rick'lec  yo'  passport,  Yas,  dat  chile  Wir- 
ginia kin  clamb  up  dem  great  zigzag  starways  like  a 
squell  'fo'  I  gits  to  de  fus'  landin'.  Cur 'us  how  chillen 
learn  all  dese  things  so  quick?" 

"Well,  dey's  young.  Sis  Cindie,  and  we's  old," 
said  Aunt  Millie,  solving  the  problem  at  once.  "See 
many  colored  folks  up  dar,  Sis  Cindie?" 

"I  see  'nough  to  make  me  shame  dat  I  is  a  nigger. 
I  thought  de  niggers  in  Richmond  was  stiff-necked 
and  uncircumcised,  but  if  you  heah  my  plea,  dey  ain't 
nowhars  'longside  de  niggers  in  New  York,  Dey's 
saints  wuthy  of  glory,  dem  Richmond  niggers  is,  when 
you  sot  'em  in  de  same  catalogue  wid  de  New  York 
niggers.  But  I  don't  kecr  how  high  dey  hoi'  deir  ole 
heads,  dem  nawthcn  niggers.     It  don't  unkink  deir 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         289 

nigger  wool  nor  bleach  deir  black  skin.  And  de  white 
folks  up  dar  don't  keer  no  mo'  for  de  nigger  dan  de 
white-  folks  in  de  Souf.  De  niggers  flock  by  demselves 
up  dar  jes'  like  dey  does  down  heah.  Dey  don't  git  no 
invites  to  de  white  folks'  parties  or  hand-rounds ;  dey 
don't  marry  no  white  men  nor  white  women,  no  mo' 
dan  dey  does  down  heah.  Dey  cook  and  dey  waits  on 
white  folks'  tables,  dey  wash  white  folks'  close  and 
mind  white  folks'  chillen,  dey  makes  up  white  folks' 
beds  and  dey  goes  to  white  folks'  doors  when  de  bell 
rings.  Den  I  ain't  relishin'  what  most  of  de  white  folks 
call  us  up  Nawth." 

"What  dey  call  us,  Sis  Cindie  ?" 

"Dey  calls  us  coons.  Coons,  mind  you?  Now,  I 
ain't  gittin'  my  back  up  when  you  call  me  a  nigger. 
Dat's  what  I  is,  but  I  ain't  no  coon,  and  de  pusson  whar 
got  so  little  raisin'  as  to  call  me  one  is  gwine  to  heah 
fum  me." 

Here  the  old  woman  broke  into  a  hearty  laugh. 

"I  mus'  tell  you  'bout  de  sper'ence  I  had  one  time 
when  I  los'  myself  on  de  Bowery,"  she  said.  "I  dunno 
as  you  ever  heern  tell  of  de  Bowery,  Sis  Millie,  bein' 
as  you  ain't  much  of  a  traveler,  but  it's  de  ungawdliest, 
de  unrighteousest  place  sense  Ole  Master  wipe  out 
Sodom  and  Gomorrah." 

"How  you  git  in  dat  wicked  place.  Sis  Cindie?" 
asked  Aunt  Millie,  alarmedly. 

"It  happened  dis  way :  Mr.  Pelham  he  'sisted  on 
me  gwine  one  day  wid  him  and  little  Wirginia  to  Man- 
hattan Beach.  You  ain't  never  bin  to  one  of  dese 
swimmin'  beaches,  is  you,  Sis  Millie?" 

"No,  Sis  Cindie." 

"Well,  raised  in  de  country  like  you  done  bin, 
whar  folks  war  plenty  of  close,  I  is  suttin  you'd  want 
to  hide  yo'  face  'fo'  you'd  be  long  at  one  dese  swimmin' 
beaches." 

"Dey  don't  war  many  close,  den?" 

"Mouty  little,  mouty  little.  Sis  Millie ;  'jes  'nough 


290   REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

to  save  'em.  Sez  I  to  Mr.  Pelham  when  he  prance  out 
wid  little  Wirginia  to  jump  in  de  water:  'Is  dem  all 
de  pants  you  gwine  to  put  on  'fo'  all  dese  heah  folks, 
honey?'  'Ain't  des  'nough,  mammy?'  he  ax  me. 
'Dey's  sinful  skimpy  and  thin,  honey,'  sez  I,  'but  I 
reckon  you  knows  best.'  An'  den  he  laugh  and  laugh 
dat  music-like  laugh  of  hisn,  his  purty  white  teeth 
shining  like  two  rows  of  little  tombstones,  jes'  like  de 
chile  laugh  and  show  his  white  teeth  when  somefin 
funny  seize  him.  And  still  laughin'  'cause  I  so  old- 
fashioned,  Mr.  Pelham  he  take  little  Wirginia  by  de 
hand  and  off  dey  march  in  de  surf.  Dat's  what  you  call 
de  ocean  water,  'cause  it  swish  up  on  de  sand  bank  and 
swish  back  agin  jes'  like  it  done  got  mad  'bout  somefin. 
You  jes'  oughts  to  see  how  dat  gal  kin  tread  de  sea, 
little  Wirginia,  I  mean.  De  fishes  of  de  deep  ain't  no 
mo'  at  home  in  de  water  dan  what  dat  chile  is.  But  I 
wandering  fum  my  text.  I  started  out  to  tell  you  'bout 
my  'venture  on  de  Bowery.  Well,  dat  was  when  we 
was  comin'  back  fum  de  beach.  In  de  ungawdly  big 
crowd  on  de  Brooklyn  Trestle  I  got  clean  los'  fum  Mr. 
Pelham,  and  de  fust  thing  I  knowed  I  was  following 
some  other  white  man  for  him,  and  I  kep'  roamin'  'bout 
tell  I  was  de  most  addled  nigger  in  Gawd's  world.  I 
was  in  de  outlandishest  place  I  ever  sot  foot  in,  and  de 
curiousest  folks  was  all  round  me  thicker'n  flies. 
'Whar  in  de  name  of  Gawd  is  I  ?'  I  keep  axing  myse'f. 
'What  place  is  dis  ?'  I  ax  some  curious-lookin'  furriner. 
*Dis  is  de  Bowery,  my  black  baby,'  sez  de  low-life 
devil,  grinnin'  insinuatin'-like  at  me.  'De  Bowery !' 
sez  I,  and  I  lift  up  my  soul  in  pra'r,  for  I  done  made 
up  my  mind  dat  I  warn't  gwine  see  Marse  Pierre  nor 
de  chile  no  mo'  in  de  flesh.  Presently  I  hearn  some 
dirty,  Eye-talianly-lookin'  little  devil  holler  at  me: 
'Dar's  a  lost  coon!'  'Who  you  call  coon,  boy?'  sez  I, 
and  de  fust  thing  T  had  de  little  Satan  tryin'  to  shake 
de  life  outen  him.  Just  den  a  constable  he  walk  up 
and  grab  me.     'What  you  doin'  to  dat  kid?'  sez  he, 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         291 

twisting  a  great  big  pole  like  he  gwine  to  hit  me  wid  it. 
'He  call  me  a  coon,'  sez  I,  trimblin'  all  over.  'Ain't 
dat  what  you  is?'  sez  he.  I  started  to  'fend  myself 
when  he  raised  dat  big  pole  at  me  agin.  'None  of  yo' 
back  talk,'  sez  he.  'Move  on,  or  I'll  run  you  in  yo' 
tomb,'  sez  he.  I  never  was  so  skeered  sense  Gawd 
made  me,  Sis  Millie.  As  de  good  Lord  would  have  it, 
I  walk  back  to  whar  I  come  fum,  not  'cause  I  had  de 
sense  to  do  it — for  I  didn't  know  whar  I  was — but  it 
jes'  happened  dat  I  turned  in  de  right  d'rection  and 
de  crowd  shoved  me  long  tell  I  riv  agin  at  de  Brooklyn 
Trestle,  but  I  didn't  know  it  v,-,'is  de  Brooklyn  Trestle 
fum  any  udder  trestle.  Now,  you  kin  jedge  how  little 
sense  I  had  left.  All  of  a  sudden  som.cbody  grab  me 
by  de  arm.  Lawd  Gawd !  I  thought  I'd  drap  dead 
den  and  dar.  But  presently  I  hear  de  words,  'Mammy! 
Alammy!'  and  I  knows  de  voice  of  ole  Marster  ain't 
gwine  sound  no  sweeter  when  he  call  Cindie  home  dan 
de  voice  of  Mr.  Pelham  was  in  dat  hour  of  my  tribu- 
lation. I  look  'roun'  and  dar  stand  dat  angel  boy  and 
little  Wirginia.  He  had  me  by  de  arm,  and  I  sot  in 
hugging  him,  and  I  hug  him  and  hug  him  tell  dar 
warn't  no  sense  in  it.  'Whar  in  de  world  is  you  bin, 
mammy?'  he  ax  me.  'Is  you  bin  slumming  on  de 
Bowery?'  he  went  on  'fo'  I  could  speak.  'Dar  whar 
I  bin,  honey,'  sez  I,  and  I  grab  hold  of  his  coat  tails 
to  keep  de  crowd  fum  sweeping  him  fum  me  agin. 
And  presently  I  told  him  all  'bout  it.  'And  de  con- 
stable,' sez  I,  'he  said  he  gwnne  to  rund  me  in  my 
grave.'  'Run  you  in  yo'  grave  ?'  he  ax,  lookin'  'mazed- 
like  outen  dem  big  blue  eyes  of  hisn.  'Well,  in  de 
tomb,  leas'ways,'  sez  I.  'De  tomb  and  grave  is  de 
same,  ain't  it?'  I  ax.  'Oh,  in  de  Tombs,'  he  tried  to 
splain.  'Yes,  in  de  tomb,'  sez  I.  'No,  in  de  Tombs,' 
he  splained  agin.  'Dat's  de  name  of  de  perlice  sta- 
tion.' Den  he  flung  back  his  head  and  laugh  and  laugh, 
dat  boy  did,  tell  'fo'  Gawd  I  was  skeered  he'd  bust  all 
his  blood  vessels  and  die  dar  on  my  hands  at  de  Brook- 


292        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

lyn  Trestle.  'Mammy,'  he  sez,  slapping  me  on  de 
shoulder,  'you  is  de  prize  baby!'  T  is  one  no-sense 
nig-ger,'  I  sez,  in  deep  humbleness  of  sperrit.  'No, 
you  is  all  right,  you  is  wuth  yo'  weight  in  gold,'  he  sez. 
Den  he  gin  me  one  hand  and  de  udder  to  little  Wir- 
ginia  and  we  went  and  jump  on  a  'lectricity  car 
somewhars  and  rode  up  town,  but  I  ain't  never  let 
loose  dat  boy's  hand  tell  we  git  home.  Dar  he  come 
now — him  and  Wirginia.  Dey  bin  to  Custisville  on 
deir  wheels." 

As  Pelham  and  Virginia  approached  Cindie  whis- 
pered confidentially  to  her  lifelong  crony: 

"Bar's  gwine  to  be  anudder  match  one  of  dese 
heah  days." 

Then  aloud  she  said  to  Pelham: 

"Heah  fum  de  folks,  honey?" 

"Yes,  mammy;  lots  of  letters.  How  are  vou. 
Aunt  Millie?" 

"I  is  up  and  doin',  honey,  'siderin'  I  done  gone 
beyand  de  'lotment  of  prophecy." 

"Here's  a  letter  for  mother  from  Virginia,"  said 
Pelham.  "I  got  one  from  Custis,  and  Virginia  one 
from  Uncle  Pierre.  Custis  wrote  to  you,  too,  mammy," 
handing  her  the  letter. 

"Who  ?  Me  ?  De  chile  done  writ  to  me  ?  Gawd 
love  dat  boy!"  kissing  the  letter.  "Read  it  to  me, 
honey,  won't  you  ?"  giving  it  back  to  Pelham. 

"With  pleasure,  but  wait  a  minute,  Custis  has 
sent  us  each — mother,  Virginia,  you  and  mvself— a 
series  of  photographs  of  the  baby." 

"He  sent  his  ole  mammy  a  set,  too?  Sis  Millie, 
you  heah  dat  ?  Is  you  ever  knowed  a  bov  whar  is  lovin' 
as  all  dat?" 

"Mammy,  I  am  proud  of  that  youngster,"  ex- 
claimed Pelham.  "Few  young  men  can  boast  of  such 
a  nephew.    He  is  a  beauty ;  he  is  a  prize  baby !" 

"Go  'long  wid  yo'  prize  babies,  boy  I  I  ain't  pin- 


REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH         293 

ning  no  'portance  to  dat  talk,  'cause  dat's  what  you  call 
me  de  time  I  got  lost  on  de  Bowery." 

Pelham  laughed. 

"Did  she  tell  you  about  it,  Aunt  Millie?" 

"She  jes'  bin  tellin'  me,  honey." 

"Whar  dem  pictures,  boy,  whar  yo'  gwine  show 
me  so  fast?"  demanded  Cindie.  "I  ain't  steddying 
'bout  de  ole  Bow'ry  now.  I  itching  to  see  dem  like- 
nesses." 

"All  right.  Here  they  are.  Custis  has  entitled 
them  all.  The  first  of  the  series  is  'The  Madonna  and 
Child.'  It  is  a  picture  of  Virginia  with  little  Pierre  in 
her  arms." 

"Ain't  dat  beautiful?"  cried  Cindie.  "Gawd  love 
his  little  heart !  Got  dem  same  paradise  eyes  whar  his 
papa  got!  Ain't  dat  smile,  dat  face  of  hisn,  ain't 
everything  he  got  jes'  heavenly?'  But  Miss  Wirginia 
— jes'  look  at  her,  Sis  Millie!  Did  you  ever  sot  yo' 
eyes  on  sech  a  gracious-looking  'oman?  Dar  ain't  no 
white  gal  in  dese  heah  parts  whar  kin  stand  in  miles 
of  her." 

"She  suttiny  is  one  likely  young  lady,"  remarked 
Aunt  Millie,  with  an  approving  grunt. 

"The  second  is  Pierre  H.  and  Pierre  HI.,"  con- 
tinued Pelham,  handing  the  photograph  so  entitled  to 
Cindie. 

"De  chile !  De  chile  wid  his  baby  boy  I  Well,  if 
dis  ain't  de  loveliest  sight  dat  my  ole  eyes  is  yet  beheld  ! 
I  dunno  which  look  de  happiest  and  de  purtiest — de 
chile  or  his  boy.  Look  how  his  little  dimple  hand  is 
clutching  at  his  papa's  cheek ;  look  how  he  look  up  in 
his  papa's  eyes,  like  he  love  him  so.  I  spec'  he  do ;  he 
'bleeged  to  love  de  father  he  got,  dat  baby  is !" 

"Now,  how  does  this  picture  strike  you?  Here 
are  Pierre  L  and  Pierre  IIL" 

"Marse  Pierre  and  de  baby!  'Fo'  Gawd!  But 
don't  Marse  Pierre  look  splendid  dar!  Gittin'  young 
agin!       Look  like  he  got  a  new  lease  on  life!     And 


294        REBELS  OF  THE  NEW  SOUTH 

dat  lovely  little  roscol  whar  he  holdin'  looks  jes'  as 
happy  and  gratified-like  as  what  he  looked  wicl  his  papa, 
dont  he?  He  won't  never  know  no  dif'ence,  Marse 
l^ierre  sech  a  lover  and  spiler  of  chillen.     Well    well ' 

nnH  111  f  .u^  "^^^  ^u^°"'  ^'''  'P^^'^  to  behold  dis  day 
and  all  dese  things  whar  done  come  to  pass  ^" 

One  more,  Pierre  HI.,  ready  for  his  bath." 

A-  u  i  1  7^!"  '"  ^'^  '^°^^^-  ^^^llie  Bowles,  look  at 
dis  heah  little  he  angel,  won't  you?     Not  a  Gawd's 

pf?  T°\  •""'  rf"'"^  ^'  ^'  P"^t^^^^t  thing  vou  ever 
seej-  Look  jes  like  his  papa  used  to  look  when  we'd 
undress  him  and  let  him  splash  round  in  de  water 
He  jes  de  spit  image  of  de  chile.  I  'clar  if  dis  babv 
ain  t  sweet  nough  to  swallow  whole.  If  dem  folkses 
dont  make  haste  and  fetch  him  home  so  dis  lovin' 
nigger  kin  hole  him  I  knows  I  gwine  drap  dead  wid 
feverishness.  Look  heah,  boy,  whyn't  you  read  dat 
letter  whar  my  chile  writ  me?" 


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